


Ugly Betty MotoGP

by Always_Dreaming



Category: MotoGP RPF, Motorcycling RPF, Ugly Betty
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Alternate Universe - Journalism, Alternative Universe - younger, Autumn, Baby Animals, Boats and Ships, Christmas Party, Fluff, Homophobia, Love Pentagons, Love Rectangles, Love Triangles, M/M, Misunderstandings, Parties, Romantic Fluff, Snogging, Spring, Summer, Ugly Betty - freeform, Valentine's Day, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:30:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 98,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10137593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Always_Dreaming/pseuds/Always_Dreaming
Summary: Tito Rabat is a fashion journalism student who gets a job at the world famous Repsol House of Fashion. When he meets all the models and managers, he gets swept into their tangled love lives, learning a lot about life, relationships and himself.





	1. Tito Gets a Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DanisAngel26](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DanisAngel26/gifts), [F1_rabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/F1_rabbit/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tito starts his job and meets all the models.
> 
> Judging by the way these guys are acting, I think they are about 5 years younger than they are in 2017, so their ages are:
> 
> Maverick= 17  
> Marc, and Alex Rins= 19  
> Tito, Aleix, and Iannone= 23  
> Dovi= 26  
> Dani= 27

“Dad! Dad!” shouted Tito as he ran up the stairs waving an envelope. “I got the job! I start next Monday at the Repsol House of Fashion!”

“That’s wonderful!” Tito’s dad, Esteban, threw down his breakfast bread roll and embraced his son. “As long as it’s what you want. It’ll be a high-pressure job, remember, and you’ll be on your feet all day attending to the models.”

“That’s okay, I’ve got the energy for that. It’ll be the start of my career as a fashion journalist!” He bounced round the room as his father smiled fondly. Esteban’s wife had died a few years earlier, leaving her husband and two sons, Tito and Jordi, living in a rundown house in the rough side of town. Tito’s job would help them pay the rent because his brother Jordi was still at school.

***

The first day of Tito’s new job dawned, and he was there early, bright eyed and happy as the HR manager showed him to the reception desk and explained his duties.

The models didn’t turn up til later of course as they needed their beauty sleep, but when they did, they all arrived together in a group, and stood staring at the new receptionist.

“Good morning,” said Tito with a smile. “Can I help you at all?”

The models giggled and whispered to each other, then turned away and sauntered off without talking to him.

They were all dark haired and looked shorter than him, so Tito felt like a blond giraffe, but told himself _oh well, that’s the way it is._

***

For the next week, all the models giggled and whispered to each other whenever he spoke to them so he assumed they were making fun of him. At least he could hide behind the tall reception desk which had a lower table for him to work on and shelves in front for all the forms he collected from people.

 _So what if these models are all dark haired and pretty? I’m far more approachable than they are, because people always feel safe with me and my gangly clumsiness._ He shrugged and got on with his work.

But after that week, one of them bounded up to him after morning coffee, followed by his shorter friend. 

“Hey!” he exclaimed, with a grin. “I’m Marc, what’s your name?”

“Tito.”

“Hi Tito. This is Dani, we both work for Santi Hernandez, the head fashion designer for the Active Wear range.” He gestured at the clothes he and Dani were wearing—lycra trousers, sporty jackets and hi tech running shoes. Marc’s were mostly black, Dani’s navy.

Just then the front doors to the Repsol House of Fashion flew open and two more models strode in. The taller one wore a silver suit, his hair and eyelashes had also been sprayed silver. The other wore a gold suit with matching hair decoration—he had a small beard, also sprayed gold.

“I should have been the gold one!” complained the silver one. “I am the most important person in the department.” He struck a pose like a bullfighter in the doorway, obstructing the other people entering and leaving, fussing with his hair and admiring his reflection in the numerous mirrors.

Marc, Dani and Tito stared at the pair. Tito noticed Marc was standing with his mouth open looking at the silver guy, but Dani was glaring at him. Whereas the gold model was gazing at Dani.

“Although, as you’re so cute, I’ll forgive you,” said the silver model, but the golden one was unimpressed, he was too busy trying to get Dani’s attention.

Tito watched silently. _How interesting. What does it all mean?_

The metallic models sashayed out of reception, making sure everyone noticed them.

“Who were they?” he asked Marc and Dani.

Dani turned to him, frowning. “They work for Livio Suppo, the head fashion designer for Formal and Occasion wear. They are always showing off and wearing flashy clothes. The silver one is right up his own arse, he—”

“But he’s such a talented model. I want to be like him one day.” Marc was starry eyed, clasping his hands together. “Don’t you think he looked at me? He did, didn’t he? He—”

“Marc, shut up, you’re making a fool of yourself. We’re late to meet Santi, come on.” Dani dragged his colleague towards the Active Wear department.

Tito laughed to himself. _So there are some love triangles going on around here. I could write an article about that. Love in the Fashion World. Model Love. Or something._

***

Later, another pair of models sauntered up to the desk and Tito looked over the top of the desk, ready to ask what they wanted.

“Hello, I’m Aleix and this is Maverick. We’re the models for the Office Wear line. How are you settling in to your new job?” He smiled sincerely but his shorter companion looked more shy and just mumbled _hey._

“Well actually, I’m having trouble with the telephone system. It’s a bit temperamental, every time I try to—”

“I know how it works,” said Maverick, leaning over the desk and fiddling with the knobs on the control panel til he got them to do what he wanted.

“Oh, well done,” said Aleix, patting him on the back enthusiastically and Maverick virtually melted on the spot. Tito raised his eyebrows.

“We—er—we better get back to—to Mr Nakamoto for the—the shoot today,” stuttered the younger model, blushing. “He wants to see what his new designs look like on us.”

“Yes, I’d nearly forgotten that. Can’t keep our boss waiting.” Aleix took Maverick’s arm, beamed at Tito, then the pair hurried off.

Tito felt like he’d been hit by a whirlwind—as well as dealing with constant phone calls, he had to cope with the handsome models passing by every minute distracting him. Talking of which, the gold model from earlier was now standing at his desk, although he was now wearing a dark grey t-shirt and jeans, and his hair was still wet from washing the gold out.

“I came to say sorry about my colleague, Andrea Iannone, getting in the way earlier. He likes to make a striking entrance. My name’s Andrea too, although people call me Dovi to distinguish me from him.”

“Hello Dovi. That’s alright.”

Dani and Marc walked by chatting just then, so Dovi smiled at Tito then ran to catch them up, hovering round Dani til both stopped to talk to him.

Tito scribbled down notes on his pad of paper. _Formal wear= Dovi and Iannone. Active wear= Marc and Dani. Office wear= Aleix and Maverick._

_Dovi likes Dani who likes Marc who likes Iannone who likes Dovi. Maverick and Aleix seem to like each other, or does one like the other more? How complicated. But it could be a good distraction from my boring reception work and give me ideas for articles to write._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God knows where I got this idea from. I’ve taken liberties with everyone’s lives here to make it more like Ugly Betty. I can’t imagine any of these guys involved in fashion, hehehe.


	2. The Spring Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *WARNING! WARNING!* Brace yourself for an overdose of cuteness. So if you aren’t in the mood for cuteness, avoid this chapter at all costs.

Tito sat at his reception desk carrying out his usual duties—he’d just put the phone down for the millionth time and was turning back to his paperwork, when someone rapped on his desk.

He looked up to see Iannone, frowning at him.

“You!” barked the model. “I need ten bunches of blue roses within two hours for my dressing room. Get them for me.”

“I beg your pardon?” Tito raised an eyebrow.

“Didn’t you hear? I need ten—”

“I heard you, but why do you need BLUE roses?”

“That is none of your business. Get them for me at once!”

“But, BLUE? They’re they hardest ones to find, I’m not sure I can—”

“Get them, or I’ll tell Mr Suppo and he’ll be angry and fire you.” He flounced off, followed by his giggling entourage of younger models.

Tito heard more giggling, and looked round to see Aleix and Maverick on the other side of his desk.

“What’s wrong with Iamoany today?” asked Aleix.

Tito smiled. “Who?”

“That’s what we call him. Nothing’s ever right for him.”

Tito explained the situation and both their expressions changed to frowns.

“He’s such a git,” said Aleix. “He’s only doing it to cause problems for you.”

“I know where you can get blue roses,” piped up Maverick. The other two looked at him.

“Oh yes? You’re always sending roses to people, are you?” said Aleix, making his colleague blush.

“Thanks, Maverick,” said Tito quickly. “Maybe you could make a list of places.”

Tito began looking up flower shops on the internet, and his hunt accelerated after Maverick wrote a list for him. But it still took him the whole two hours, which he could have used for his normal work. 

Grinding his teeth and muttering to himself, he at last found the required number of bunches, and they arrived just in time.

“Ah yes,” said Iannone, inspecting them. “But some of them are wilting, you should—”

“What lovely roses,” interrupted Dovi, appearing next to him. He sniffed at the flowers. “Are they yours? Can I have some for my dressing room?”

“Oh! Yes. Yes of course. Take as many as you want.” Iannone was suddenly docile and jovial.

 _God bless you, Dovi,_ thought Tito. Dovi and Iannone went off with their arms full of roses and Tito could finally get on with his work. The next day was the big Spring Photoshoot and he had a lot to do.

***

The Repsol House of Fashion had a lot of rivals, for example Yamaha Moda with its top model, Valentino Rossi. He was the most popular model in the world, specialising in very high fashion Italian clothes, and everyone aspired to be like him. There was also Vogue Ducati, and Suzuki-Homme, all snapping at the heels of Repsol and Yamaha. So the fashion directors of Repsol, Mr Suppo, Mr Hernandez and Mr Nakamoto, were very keen to produce a unique spring fashion photo spread. Mr Suppo unfortunately had to go away to a business meeting on the day but he trusted his fellow directors to carry out his orders.

That day, as the photographers, make-up artists and others were setting up, the door of the studio flew open and Iannone sashayed in. He was wearing a white tunic with a huge black cross embroidered onto it, as well as a crown weaved of blue roses in his hair. He went to stand in the middle of the room and posed until everyone was looking at him.

But Dovi groaned and turned away.

“What’s the matter?” asked Aleix.

“I knew he was up to something. He’s been so secretive lately. He must have had that tunic made specially.”

Mr Nakamoto strode up to Iannone and glared at him. “What are you doing?” he asked sternly.

“I am to be the centrepiece of the shoot. I am representing Easter and the resurrection of our Lord.” He posed with his arms out, as if he was on the cross.

“Does he think he’s Jesus?” whispered Maverick to Marc, but he got no answer because Marc was staring adoringly at the white clad figure. Maverick looked round nervously for someone else to talk to, but they were all gazing at Iannone, with varying expressions of shock, laughter and confusion.

“But you are supposed to be part of the egg and chick tableau,” said Mr Nakamoto to Iannone impatiently.

“Well, your boss Mr Suppo thought otherwise. He wanted me to be the most important figure.”

“I bet he didn’t,” muttered Dani to Aleix, who nodded.

Nakamoto and Iannone argued for a few minutes, then the Japanese director shrugged and walked back to Santi Hernandez.

“And we can’t contact Livio because he’s in very delicate contract discussions with that new financier,” muttered Santi.

The models tried to edge closer to hear what their bosses were saying, but couldn’t as they were mumbling so quietly. Eventually the directors turned round.

“Very well,” said Nakamoto. “Iannone will be the centrepiece. But we need someone to take his place. The younger models are all out shooting somewhere else, who can it be?”

“What about the new receptionist?” suggested Marc, tearing his eyes away from Iannone posing. “He’s a fun guy.”

The models all made agreeing noises and the directors conferred again. They ended up agreeing too, and sent Marc to fetch Tito.

“We need you, Tito!" he exclaimed, bouncing on his toes at the reception desk. "We are a model short and you’d be perfect in the shoot,” .

“What? I can’t be a model.”

“Yes, you can! Come along, you can hold the chicks if Maverick lets you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m no model, look at me.”

“You’ll be fine, come along.”

“But—but—I can’t leave the phones unmanned, I must—”

“We’ll get one of the girls to answer them,” said Marc, dragging him away from his desk. “Once they do your hair and put make up on, you’ll look wonderful. Anyway, everyone will be looking at the chicks.”

 _Chicks? What on earth am I letting myself in for?_ Tito chewed his lip.

***

After the make-up and fashion assistants had done their work on Tito in Marc’s dressing room, they led him back to the studio.

The sight that met his eyes made him gasp.

Aleix was sitting on a rug of fake grass in one corner of the studio, dressed in a russet brown t-shirt and khaki jeans, with a sleeping lamb on his lap, while another lamb gambolled around him. Dani stood behind them all on a green velvet box with his arms in the air. He wore a tall golden tiara, a yellow-gold shirt, and white trousers. Pinned to his shirt pocket was a large, gold brooch, obviously meant to be the sun. Tito gawped at the scene for a few moments.

“Is Aleix a shepherd and Dani the sun?” he whispered to Chelsea, the make-up girl next to him. He was unaware that all the models were looking at him with wide eyes too, as he stood there in his silver shirt and parchment white trousers.

“Yes, the whole shoot is a representation of spring—all the things everyone thinks of when they think of spring.”

Tito turned to another corner of the studio where Marc stood, wearing a garland of multi-coloured flowers in his hair, holding his arms above his head. His outfit was purple, like a crocus—his purple shirt had a sheen to it, like dew on a morning day, and was dotted with small daisies. His trousers were green, like a flower stem and he also stood on a rug of fake grass. 

In front of him sat Dovi, wearing a grey brown cardigan over a matching t-shirt, and brown suede trousers. He was holding a sleeping baby rabbit in his arms, while two other rabbits grazed on lettuce next to him. 

Tito admired the cute scene, then Chelsea led him to another corner, where Maverick sat surrounded by cheeping yellow chicks. 

_Aha! So that’s what he meant by chicks! I thought he meant girls!_ Tito giggled to himself. Maverick’s t-shirt was grass green, contrasting with the yellow chicks, and his trousers were pale blue. He smiled up at Tito, who smiled back.

“This is where you are,” said Chelsea. Then the photographer stepped in.

“Right now, Tito, is it? You sit here.” He handed the new model a basket of eggs, then took some out and put them by his feet, on his lap and some in the crook of his arm. “Now don’t move.”

 _Eggs and chicks. Well if that doesn’t mean Spring, nothing does._ Tito smiled. 

“We’re lucky,” whispered Maverick to him. “We don’t have to move as much as the others.” 

They looked round to see the photographer posing Marc in different positions representing flowers moving in the wind. Marc didn’t look happy, he was gazing at Iannone, who was posing in the middle of the room, wearing his tunic with the cross design. The tunic was billowing somehow. 

_Trust Iannone to find a wind machine to add interest to his modelling pose._ Tito still hadn’t forgiven him for the blue rose incident.

***

When the photographer had finished with Marc and Dovi, he moved away to Aleix and Dani.

“You’re so lucky,” said Marc to Dovi dreamily, as he sat down to rest his arms and legs, and to play with the bunnies.

“What?” Dovi was trying to stop one of the rabbits chewing a button on his cardigan.

“Iannone fancies you, he’s always trying to get you alone.”

“Huh! He’s always trying to get himself alone. He only fancies himself.”

“But you have to be vain if you want to be a top model like him.” Marc picked up the baby rabbit and talked to it. “Yes, you do. Yes, you do. Do you want to be a top model?” The rabbit sniffed at him and waggled its ears. “Maybe I’ll put in a good word for you with Santi.” He stroked the little creature’s head.

Dovi smiled at Marc with the cute bunny. “You’re so lucky.”

“Am I, why?”

“Dani wants you. He’s always paying attention to you.”

“No, he doesn’t, don’t be silly. He’s just a work colleague.”

“He never takes any notice of me, he thinks I’m the same as Iannone.” Dovi sighed, and stroked the nearest rabbit, which sat up and washed its face.

“I’m sure he doesn’t think that. I’m sure he likes you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He just likes you.”

“No, you’re wrong, I’ll prove it to you.”

“How will you do that, Marc? Don’t embarrass me!”

“I’m not going to embarrass you, I’ll think of something. I’ll throw myself at Iannone, he’ll realise he wants me, not you, then you can pounce on Dani.”

Dovi rolled his eyes. “Well good luck with that! It sounds risky to me.”

“No it isn’t, my plans always work out, you’ll see.”

“Your plans rarely work out, you’re too optimistic.”

They carried on arguing and even the bunnies didn’t soothe the atmosphere between them.

***

Meanwhile, the photographer had moved on to Tito and Maverick, leaving Aleix and Dani to chat and play with the lambs.

“Look at that man. He thinks he’s so great,” grumbled Dani, glaring at Iannone. “He thinks he’s the best model in the world.” 

“You’re only jealous because Marc chases after him so much, that’s all,” soothed Aleix. “Just ignore Iamoany, he just loves winding everyone up and showing off.”

“What does Marc see in him anyway? I can’t understand.”

“You just want Marc to fancy you, that’s all. What are you going to do about it?”

“I dunno. He just sees me as his older colleague and that’s all. He’s all starry eyed about Iannone, he wants to copy him and be a top model.”

“Maybe that’s all he wants—advice on modelling. Maybe he’ll realise what a tosser the man is and stop idolising him.”

“Fat chance of that. Marc’s tongue hangs out with he looks at him.”

“You never know. These younger guys change their minds so often I can’t keep up.”

“So, has Maverick changed his mind about you then?” Dani nudged Aleix as he stroked the sleeping lamb on his lap.

“Maverick? What’s he got to do with it?”

“He adores you! haven’t you noticed? Or have you got your eye on someone else?”

“Me? No. What? Maverick? He’s just my cute colleague.”

“Ooooh!” said Dani, smiling.

“Yes, I said he was cute. He is cute, but not my type at all.”

“What is your type then, eh?” Dani nudged him again, giggling.

“I don’t know. I’m pretty easy really.”

“Are you now? You big tart!” Dani was really laughing now and Aleix joined him, pleased to have made his friend smile.

***

Maverick and Tito had been photographed now, and were able to relax as the photographer moved on to Iannone. Tito put all his eggs down on the fake grass, which was a relief as he’d been so worried about breaking them. The little chicks bustled round both models, making their peep peep noises and occasionally pecking at the guys’ legs.

“How are you enjoying your job?” asked Maverick.

“It’s okay. I don’t get much time to write articles though.” Tito removed a chick which was climbing up his leg, pecking at him with its sharp beak.

“I know what you mean. I used to work in reception, it's hectic.”

“It is. Did you leave to become a model?”

“Kind of. Luckily someone talent-spotted me at reception and whisked me away to the world of modelling.” For once, Maverick didn’t seem shy and nervous. Perhaps it was because he was away from the distracting Aleix, or because he was playing with six little fluffy yellow chicks, feeding them corn and stroking their tiny heads.

Tito snorted. “Well I’m happy for you, but that’s hardly going to happen to me, is it?” He gestured to himself, then found another egg on his lap and put it on the floor for safety.

Maverick was staring at him with his mouth open.

“Don’t look so shocked at the thought of me being a model.” Tito sighed. Being surrounded by gorgeous men all day was nice, but a constant reminder that he’d never be pretty enough to be a model. The glamorous, showbiz life was tempting but he was destined to be a journalist, only reporting on the rich and famous people without being one of them.

Maverick stared at him for a long time, but eventually said, _“Me gustan tus huevos,_ Tito.”

Tito smiled politely, then a thought struck him. _Wait. What? Did he really say he liked my balls? Or did he just mean these eggs?_ He looked sideways at Maverick, trying to decide, but his companion just smiled sweetly at him. Tito couldn’t help blushing for some reason.

Someone clapped and made them both jump. It was Santi Hernandez, wearing one of his usual smocks, his favourite item of clothing due to his round shape. This one was Repsol orange with embroidered blue flowers at the collar and hem.

“Well done, boys!” he exclaimed. “This spring fashion spread will show our competitors we can be innovative and original. Take the afternoon off as a sign of my gratitude.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Me gustan tus huevos_ = I like your eggs. But _huevos_ is also slang for balls in Spanish!


	3. The Summer Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summer sun, something's begun, but uh! Oh those summer nights.

“Right everyone, listen please!” Livio Suppo, the executive director of the Repsol House of Fashion, clapped his hands as he stood on the stage of the conference hall. “Today I want to announce the theme for the Summer Fashion Shoot. The Spring one went so well and was a sensation in all the fashion magazines, that I want to carry on the momentum and excel this season, too.”

His employees all sat looking up at him, various ideas running through their minds. Iannone was fanning himself with a white and gold invitation to his friend’s party, which would be held at the most prestigious club in the area. Marc was hoping there would be baby animals there to play with at the next photoshoot too. Aleix was dreading a repeat of that situation, because last time the lambs had chewed holes in his favourite socks.

Maverick didn’t want to be centre stage at any photoshoot—he’d enjoyed looking after the little chicks but usually liked to play a minor part in any fashion shows. Dovi was not looking forward to Iannone being the centre of attention yet again—he seemed to spend his time apologising for his colleague and he was fed up with it. Dani just sat quietly, trying to think of themes for Summer scenes—maybe they would film in a cornfield? Or on a beach? Or in Hawaii? Now that last one would be good.

“The theme will be maritime,” continued Livio, “and so we will be shooting on a yacht in the Mediterranean for a fortnight. Therefore, the clothes will have a nautical theme.”

Gasps of surprise and murmurs of excitement ran through the auditorium.

“That’s good,” muttered Aleix to Maverick. “I’ve always liked seamen.” 

Maverick snorted, then pretended he was just coughing as people turned to look at him.

Tito was sitting with Marc and Dani.

“Do you think I’ll be invited? Like last time?” he whispered to Dani. It was no use talking to Marc when Iannone was around as he was just staring at the tall Italian.

“Hopefully you can replace Iannone like last time, too.”

“Yes, I’ll push him overboard.” Tito giggled.

“Don’t tempt me!” said Dani, so loudly that Livio frowned and clapped his hands for silence again.

***

Tito was indeed invited along to the shoot—this time as an assistant, however, because Iannone had been told off about his behaviour in the Spring Photoshoot, by Livio himself. Livio was the only person Iannone really listened too, and after sulking for a while, he decided to be the perfect model and stun everyone with his performance.

Just before the shoot, everyone was standing by the cars they had arrived in, preparing to board the huge yacht, named the _Rio Grande_. Tito noticed Maverick fussing with his tie, so went to see what was wrong.

“Me and Aleix are supposed to be businessmen having a meeting onboard the boat, but for some reason we’re wearing bow ties and I can’t tie mine,” gabbled Maverick, his fingers slipping on the black velvet material. “Can you?”

“I can have a go.” Tito tried to remember how he’d seen people tying these before, but really, Maverick looking up sweetly at him was putting him off and he wasn’t doing a very good job.

“What are you two doing?” said Aleix, gliding up to them. “Here, let me.” He tied the perfect bow, as his own tie was.

Tito retreated. _How come Aleix knows how to do everything? Now Maverick is looking up sweetly at him instead of me._ Tito felt such a wave of annoyance that he stamped back to the car to look in his bag which contained his laptop and all the notes for the shoot. 

“Alright, Tito?” said Dovi, who was lurking nearby. “You look how I feel.”

“I’m fine. What’s the matter with you?” he said more rudely than he meant to.

“Oh, not much. I just wish I could work in a different department. Iannone is too much sometimes.”

“He is. Which department would you prefer?” Tito was re-reading the notes on who was supposed to do what and go where for this shoot.

“Well, Santi’s. I could swap with Marc. He’d love to work with Iannone and I’d love to work with Dani.”

“Think the bosses would agree to that?”

“I could ask, couldn’t I?”

“Yes, go on. Fortune favours the bold.” They smiled at each other.

***

As the Summer photoshoot had a maritime theme, Dani and Marc were playing the yacht crew, dressed in clothes with a naval appearance. Dani looked like an officer, wearing a blue and white cap, navy jacket and navy pinstriped trousers, Marc like a lower ranked sailor, sporting a blue jumper and smart trousers.

“Hello, sailor!” said Aleix to them, giving an exaggerated salute. “What rank are you, Dani?” 

Dani indicated the insignia on his shoulder. “I’m a Rear Admiral.”

“So I’ve heard.” Aleix winked.

Maverick, Marc and Dovi giggled, but Tito tried not to.

Iannone sneered at the others. “Come on Dovi,” he said. “We must get dressed. I’ll help you.” He took Dovi by the arm and escorted him towards their dressing room, which was a cabin on the boat. There was no room for single dressing rooms as the boat was obviously smaller than the Repsol headquarters, so each pair of models shared a cabin.

Iannone and Dovi were to be dressed as rich guests taking a holiday onboard the yacht and they would wear glamorous shirts and trousers, or designer t-shirts and jeans.

Everyone went to get ready and Tito had to go round to each pair’s dressing room to hurry them up more than once.

***

During a pause in shooting, Iannone was standing on the deck in the sunshine, tossing his hair in the breeze as he slowly ate a Magnum ice-cream, which dripped down his bare chest like a waterfall. He didn’t like wearing clothes at the best of times and couldn’t wait to get them off at any opportunity.

Marc stood staring at him with his mouth open as if he’d been turned to stone, while the other models tried to ignore Iannone by looking out over the slowly lapping, blue waves. The yacht was moored of course, but the water still made it move up and down a little.

“Sad, isn’t it,” said Aleix to Tito. “Iannone is such a prick, yet Marc can’t take his eyes off him. He could do so much better.”

Tito nodded resignedly and turned to look at Maverick having his hair and make-up done in a shady corner of the deck.

Iannone finished his ice-cream and carelessly flipped the stick away. Unfortunately for him, it hit a life jacket hanging on the railing and bounced back into his face. Marc cackled with laughter.

“Stop gawping at me, boy!” snapped the Italian. “You look like a goldfish. You’ll never be a top model if you stand around looking like a halfwit!”

Marc stopped laughing, his eyes widened and his bottom lip wobbled a bit. Iannone turned to leave, tossing his head like a flighty stallion. But before he could move, a small bundle of anger shoved him against the bulkhead.

“Don’t speak to him like that!” shouted Dani. “You overpaid piece of nylon!”

“How dare you call me nylon!” retorted Iannone, staggering a little. “And how dare you touch me!” He pushed Dani away, and the little Catalan fell awkwardly onto the deck. Iannone stalked off.

“Dani!” gasped Marc, throwing himself on his knees next to his colleague. “Dani! Are you alright?”

Dani sat up slowly. He wasn’t badly hurt but as Marc was fussing over him for once, he didn’t want to waste the experience. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

“Oh, let me help you. That brute pushed you, what a bully.” He helped Dani up, putting his arm round his waist. “Thanks for defending me.”

“You’re welcome.” Dani grinned at him, then flashed a smile over his shoulder at Aleix, Dovi, Tito and Maverick, who were watching in surprise. “Take me to my dressing room, I can put my feet up on the bunk.” 

They hobbled off together as Aleix said, “ooh, look at them,” and Tito and Maverick made admiring noises. Dovi didn’t say anything so Aleix patted his arm.


	4. Summer Breezes on the Ocean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misunderstandings and explanations.

“Can you get me some more water?” asked Dani an hour later, as he lay on the bunk in the cabin functioning as his dressing room for this shoot. Well, the dressing room he shared with Marc, to his delight.

“Of course.” Marc hurried to take his glass and went to fill it in the kitchen area. “Anything else you need?”

“No, I think I’m okay.” Dani was grinning to himself. Here he was, only slightly injured, with the colleague he’d fancied for months taking care of him. He put his hands behind his head and thought how he could move things along.

“That bloody Iannone,” said Marc as he brought the glass of water back. “He’s such an arrogant arse.”

 _Oh yes. Iannone. Marc probably still likes him._ Dani slumped a little against the pillow. “He was certainly rude to you and aggressive to me,” he began.

“Too right!” exclaimed Marc. “I won’t be idolising him anymore, you can be sure of that!” He slammed the glass down on the bedside table.

 _Uh oh. That sounds far too passionate. He’s probably still got feelings for him, secretly._ “So, what sort of man would you idolise, then?”

“Er—well—I—I dunno.” Marc bit his lip. “All Iannone has is his pretty face, that will fade. I want someone with a sense of humour…and…erm…someone who isn’t spiteful.”

Just at that moment, the boat lurched and Dani’s glass of water, which he’d been just about to drink from, tipped and the water splashed all over his t-shirt, drenching it.

Dani shrieked at the sudden coldness, then giggled. “Well, I said the weather was too hot around here. The water is trying to cool me down.”

“Oh no!” said Marc, eyeing the wet t-shirt. “You better take that off though—and—er—well—it’ll dry quickly outside. I’ll put it outside.”

Dani took his t-shirt off slowly on purpose, peeling it up little by little to assess Marc’s reaction. _He’s definitely looking at me. He’s pretending to look out of the porthole but his eyes are on me._

Eventually he removed the wet item and threw it at Marc, who fumbled to catch it. 

_More evidence he was looking at me, otherwise he’d have easily caught it._ Dani smiled innocently as his room-mate stumbled outside to put the t-shirt somewhere to dry in the sun.

***

“So, Tito. How’s your article writing going?” asked Maverick, sitting down with a bump next to him on the shady bench by the bulkhead. It was the next morning and the sun was already hot, but not yet at its full strength.

Tito jumped. “Oh, sorry, you startled me. Er—well—it’s not. I’m too busy sorting out models’ arguments. Like Magnum-gate with Marc and Iannone yesterday—that’s just going to get worse, I reckon. And Dovi doesn’t like Marc because Dani likes him. And Dani doesn’t like Iannone after the way he insulted Marc. It’s a mess.”

Maverick looked nervous, maybe at the sudden torrent of information, so Tito hastily switched back to the original topic.

“I need to find ideas for articles to write, can you think of anything? I can’t write anything confidential, so no upcoming fashion designs. I can’t write about business plans or future directions of Repsol because those are confidential too, so…?”

Maverick thought for a while. “Well…what about the arguments? People like to read about gossip.”

“But aren’t they also confidential?”

“Not if—not if we give the models false names!” He gazed at Tito and smiled so the blond smiled back.

“That’s genius. What names would we give them?” Tito felt a giggle bubbling up inside.

“How about English names? We’ll start with A. Dani’s the oldest. He can be Alfred.”

Tito let a little of his giggle out. “And Dovi, he’s next oldest…how about…Brian?”

Maverick snorted. “My dad’s friend is called Brian, he’s so boring and never does anything.”

“Let’s reinvent the name Brian then. We’ll reinvent Dovi as a stud.”

Maverick laughed even louder. “Maybe Iannone should be Brian then!”

“No, don’t insult poor Dovi. Iannone could be Colin. Who’s next oldest?”

“Aleix. He can be…Dennis.”

Tito began writing these down on the notes section of his phone. “Then Marc…he can be Englebert.” He chuckled. “He doesn’t look like an Englebert.”

“That leaves…Oh! Me!”

“Haha, now what name begins with F?” Tito thought hard. “Something really awful.”

“Oh, you’re so mean. What about Frank? I like Frank.”

“I was thinking Fred. But Frank is better.”

“Frank. Let me be Frank with you.” Maverick laughed and put on a deep, plummy, English accent. “Hu-llo! I am Frank. A rich, posh Englishman.”

Tito almost choked with laughter. “Hello Frank. Hey! What name should I be? It should be G.”

“Gregory? Godfrey?”

“Okay, Godfrey. Hu-llo, I am Godfrey, I’m a—”

“What are you two laughing at?” asked Iannone, swanning past being pursued by a make-up artist trying to get him to stand still to be made up.

“Nothing, we’re just happy.” Tito smiled broadly at him.

“Well, you’re making us all sick with your pining over each other. Do us a favour and get a room.”

Tito’s mouth fell open and he stared at the sneering Italian, feeling the discomfort of a blush spreading over his face and neck. He didn’t dare look at Maverick.

Iannone obviously wanted a reaction as he was hanging around looking from one to the other, but he didn’t get it so he strode off, to the annoyance of the make-up artist trotting after him.

Tito bravely glanced at his companion, who looked calm, if a little pink. Various replies went through his head and he rejected them all as clumsy and inaccurate.

“There goes Colin Iannone,” said Maverick after a while. “Always upsetting other people. What a dickhead.”

Tito smiled at his sensible comment and felt a sense of relief. He felt so relieved that he reached out and squeezed Maverick’s hand. But his companion jumped and snatched his hand away, blushing.

“Sorry!” said Tito. “I didn’t mean to—sorry, I—”

“I’ll see you later,” said Maverick, and hurried off towards his dressing room.

 _Well done Tito. Really smooth._ He frowned at his clumsiness. _Iannone tries to wind us up, then Maverick says exactly the right thing but I ruin it. Awesome._

***

Just before lunch, Dovi knocked on the door of Dani and Marc’s cabin. He’d brought a holiday magazine with him as a present for Dani—if he was lying around, bored, it would be nice for him to read something entertaining. Flowers were usually the thing to take to someone who’d been injured, but it wasn’t like Dani was seriously wounded—at least he hadn’t seemed to be—so flowers would be over the top. He knew Dani liked going on exotic holidays, so the magazine it was.

Marc answered the door. “Hello?” His expression was not his usual smiley, welcoming one but cold and unfriendly.

“Hello—er—I wondered how Dani was. After what happened. I also wanted to apologise for my colleague’s behaviour, I seem to be doing that all the time.” 

Marc’s expression didn’t change.

“So, is he okay? I brought him this, as I thought it might stop him being bored if he can’t walk.” Dovi showed the magazine but kept a tight hold on it.

“He’s fine. His ankle’s a bit bruised but he should be able to walk normally tomorrow.”

“Can I come in then, and give it to him?”

“Thanks, I’ll give it to him.” Marc held out his hand, nodding to Dovi to pass him the magazine. 

“I’d like to give it to him myself.”

“He’s—er—he’s asleep. He can see it when he wakes up. Give it to me.” Marc’s jaw was set and Dovi thought it would be undignified to scuffle in the doorway over a magazine. So, with a sigh he handed it over. It wasn’t like Dani was in hospital for months or something—he’d soon be back to normal.

Then Marc shut the door so quickly that the visitor had to step back smartly to avoid being knocked by it.

 _Well so much for seeing Dani. I suppose I’ll see him tomorrow._ The Italian slumped against the wall. _Marc is suddenly so protective, what does that mean?_

***

“Who was that?” asked Dani when Marc turned away from the door holding the holiday magazine. “What did they give you?”

“It was—er—Dovi. He brought this to cheer you up.” He handed the present over to Dani, looking as if it was poisoned.

“Oh, how kind of him. He knows I love Hawaii and exotic places.” Dani opened the magazine. “He’s the only one, apart from you, who’s been round to see how I am.” He began reading an article about self-catering holidays in the Caribbean, smiling happily.

“He came round because he fancies you, that’s why.” Marc was frowning.

“Oh, does he? Well he’s a nice guy, I could do worse.” Dani pretended to continue reading, sensing that his companion was fuming silently.

“But, _he_ didn’t help you when Iannone pushed you, did he? _I_ helped you, not him!”

Dani stared at him for a long time. “Perhaps you better come and help me decide on my next holiday, then.” He raised his eyebrows and patted the bunk bed. Marc hesitated for a millisecond, then sat down, and Dani moved across to make room next to him, secretly hearing a fanfare going off in his head as his companion blatantly eyed his bare chest.

***

Outside the cabin, Dovi was still slumping against the wall, thinking what he could do to cheer himself up. _Maybe I’ll walk on the beach and look at the sea. It’s so beautiful around here, how can I feel snubbed in such a beautiful place?_

“Hello!” said a jolly voice, and Aleix bounced up to him.

“Oh…hello.” _A pep talk is not what I need right now._

“What’s the matter? You don’t look happy.” Aleix hovered next to him, looking sympathetic.

Dovi drew him away from the Active Wear models’ dressing room and along the deck. “It’s just—I went to see how Dani was doing and his bodyguard wouldn’t let me in.”

“His bodygua—you mean Marc?”

“Yes. I think Marc’s finally realised how what a great, fantastic, hot guy Dani is and it’s too late for me.”

“Oh no! Poor thing.” Aleix patted his arm. “Well, you never know. Dani might find Marc too annoying, or on the other hand, you might find someone else. There’s plenty more fish in the sea. And, tomorrow is another day. And, if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again etc.” He beamed.

Dovi couldn’t help smiling. “Any other old sayings you’re going to tell me at this point?”

“Oh, many more but I don’t want you to go and shoot yourself.” He beamed even more broadly, if that was possible, and Dovi nearly laughed.

***

After lunch, Maverick wandered towards Tito as he sat on the deck, leaning against the bulkhead, surrounded by his notes about the photoshoot and drinking a refreshing cold can of coke from the machine. Each pile of papers was held down by something to stop the sea breeze blowing them away.

“Sorry I ran off like that earlier. I was just a bit embarrassed, that’s all.” Maverick was chewing his lip.

Tito’s phone rang just then and he rolled his eyes. As he answered it, he shrugged at his companion in a way he hoped was reassuring. The caller, Livio, droned on about schedules and who went where, to which Tito just had to answer _yes/ no/ I’ll do that_ etc. until Livio said goodbye.

“I didn’t realise anyone had noticed me hanging around you,” continued Maverick. “Sorry, I won’t do it anymore.” He turned to leave but Tito put his hand out to stop him and it came in contact with his leg, nearly tripping him up and he had to grab a railing to stay upright.

“Sorry! Don’t run away. I don’t mind you hanging around talking to me any time,” gabbled Tito. “I like it. I get bored at reception. Don’t let Iannone’s bitching scare you off. Ignore him. We can just be friends, don’t let people’s opinions change anything.”

Maverick smiled. “I thought—well, you seem much older than me and more worldly-wise. You won’t want some seventeen year old hanging around.”

Tito almost choked on his drink. “Me? I’m only twenty two. I’m not older and wiser at all. I thought all you models were like that, not me! You’ve travelled round the world and seen everything, done everything, tried everything.”

“Well…I don’t know about the rest of them but I haven’t done all that.” He sat down next to Tito. “They scare me most of the time anyway, they all seem to know what they’re doing and I don’t.”

“I don’t think they do. It’s a pretence, much of the time. I know for sure that Dovi isn’t very confident, and look at Marc’s emotional reaction to Iannone’s insults. It’s all a front.”

Maverick looked at him for a moment. “There, you see. I said you were wise. I was right.” He shuffled along the deck a little til his bare arm was resting against Tito’s. This nearly made the blond jump out of his skin but he controlled himself with a few surreptitious deep breaths and let Maverick stay there resting on him in the cool shade of the awning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed this to Teen rating because its hard to stop the characters swearing, I just know Iannone is going to have a tantrum at some point and start cursing...


	5. Back to Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Summer Photoshoot has finished and everyone is back at the Repsol House of Fashion.

Marc sat waiting for Dani and Santi to arrive for the Active wear department meeting where they would discuss their next fashion direction to take. Summer into Autumn was a slower season for them, as people were starting to stay indoors more, but it depended on the weather of course. If a late heatwave arrived, as it often did, people would want more Active wear products, but if the weather got colder, demand would fall.

He wasn’t sure what had happened to him lately, though—since he’d seen Dani in a wet t-shirt, that amazing sight had been all he’d been able to think about. The thin material clinging to his tanned, muscly chest, his pink nipples poking out like little raspberries just asking to be nibbled.

Then after Dani had removed the t-shirt, Marc had sat on the bunk with him, trying to keep his attention on the holiday magazine and the beautiful views his colleague was excitedly pointing to, but he’d preferred the view there in the cabin and his glance wandered all the time to Dani’s neat, tanned bare chest. 

He couldn’t recall a time he’d seen him shirtless before—although obviously, they both constantly changed clothes for photoshoots, Dani was a modest man and never pranced around half naked like certain other models Marc could think of. His bare arm was in almost constant contact with Dani’s bare arm and he’d had to put a cushion on his lap to avoid making a fool of himself.

“Hello Marc.” Santi came bustling in. The young model nearly jumped out of his skin, but managed to say hi to his boss, who today was wearing a lilac smock embroidered with Celtic designs. He loved his smocks but Marc was too busy looking behind him to see Dani following to giggle at this one. Dani was wearing a pale-yellow t-shirt, which was pale enough to reveal an outline of his chest, and Marc nearly fainted at the sight.

“So, did you enjoy the Summer Photoshoot?” asked Santi, giving him a strange look. “I hear you and Iannone had a falling out.”

“Oh, yeah. Him. It’s alright Santi, that’s far in the past now.” Marc was trying to gaze at Dani without being too obvious. The petite model was also wearing red shorts which were very—er—short, revealing most of his muscly thighs and Marc didn’t know where to look. He could hardly ignore his colleague and stare out of the window—that would just be rude.

“So,” said Santi. “This is the plan for the coming months.” He unrolled a huge scroll of paper, so large it covered the whole desk. It had a multitude of lists, mind maps and post-it notes stuck on it—it was a sight to be seen for sure and both models raised their eyebrows.

As his boss talked about the plan, Marc fell into a day dream. He was having visions of Dani and his bare chest lying beneath him, or above him, or in front of him, or behind him—any way really. Although it would be hard to see Dani’s bare chest if he was behind Marc. Maybe they would be somewhere in front of a mirror, so he could see Dani from all angles? Where would that be exactly? Maybe some luxury hotel, on a private island in the Caribbean, or maybe at a—

“What do you think, Marc? Do you agree?” asked Santi abruptly, and the young model jumped.

“Oh—er—yes! Yes, whatever you say.” He was glad they were all sitting round a table which was hiding the evidence of what he’d been thinking. Although he wouldn’t have been surprised if the table had started moving upwards any minute with the power of his arousal. He caught Dani’s glance and received a wink. What if Dani had been thinking the same thoughts? If only he had!

“Very well,” said Santi, flapping his smock dramatically. “It’s very hot in here, should I open another window?”

***

In another area of the large Repsol building, Dovi sat resignedly in the Formal and Occasion wear meeting room waiting for Livio to arrive. Unlike the Activewear department, this one was heading for its most busy time of year—the festive season, including Halloween’s arrival before Christmas. People attended so many parties from October to December that the department staff would be rushed off their feet getting all the designs and shooting done in time.

Iannone sat at the other side of the table, playing with his phone and filing his nails at the same time. With a sigh, Dovi looked out of the window across the courtyard of the O-shaped Repsol Honda building. A movement in another window caught his eye and he looked up to see Aleix dancing around in the meeting room opposite. Maverick sat nearby playing with his phone, not taking any notice of the dancing.

Dovi smiled to see this scene. _Of course, they must be waiting for their meeting with Nakamoto. Well, Aleix is obviously as bored as I am, so he can entertain me._

He waved, his hand only at shoulder height and hidden by his body so Iannone didn’t notice, and Aleix waved back more obviously. Then he went to the window and pretended to swim across the high windowsill, firstly front crawl, then backstroke. 

Livio arrived at that moment, greeted Dovi and Iannone, then began droning on about the financial situation of the department—how they would have to ensure they spent as little as possible on expenses to leave enough money for the actual fashion shoots.

Dovi listened to his boss’ monologue with half an ear, watching the performer opposite pretending to drown, waving and thrashing about melodramatically. Dovi was stifling giggles but they slipped out occasionally, not that his companions noticed. Aleix’s acting somehow seemed funnier because Maverick was sitting neatly at the table two feet away, completely oblivious.

“I must fetch a spreadsheet,” said Livio suddenly, and strode out of the room.

“What’s so funny?” asked Iannone, equally as suddenly.

“Oh! N-nothing.” Dovi tore his glance away from his entertainment. “What game are you playing?” He indicated the phone and as Iannone explained, Dovi looked back at Aleix, who was still ‘drowning’, then suddenly he jumped and stood up, brushing off his clothes. Mr Nakamoto was shaking his finger at him and pointing to Maverick in a teacher-ish way as if to say, _this is how I expect my employees to behave._ Aleix nodded and shuffled meekly to sit down, leaving Dovi grinning.

***

Marc leant on the reception desk as it was a good height for that, idly watching Tito as he filed away his endless forms.

“What’s the matter?” asked the blond. “You look thoughtful.”

Marc shrugged. “I dunno.”

“Is it you and Iannone? Did he do something else to you?”

“God, no!! That idiot. No, it’s…”

“Well I don’t want to pry.” Tito was feeling bad about his discussion with Maverick. He didn’t know if he could write articles about the love lives of the models because it could easily get nasty and it would certainly upset them. He told himself that whatever Marc said, he wouldn’t pass it on or paraphrase it for an article. He’d have to speak to Maverick again to get some different ideas.

“It’s okay. I’m thinking about Dani.” He took a deep breath. “Ever since he defended me against Iannone I’ve seen him in a different light. He’s just so fantastic!”

“Aww….” said Tito, who was surreptitiously texting Maverick about his change of heart.

“But he probably just thinks I’m some silly kid. He’s about seven years older than me, far too mature to notice me.”

“I’m sure he doesn’t think that.” Tito finished texting and shoved his phone in his pocket. “He’s a nice guy and a little bird told me that he likes you.”

“Did they? Who? I mean, what? What did they say?” Marc almost fell over the desk with excitement.

“My informant said that Dani likes you for sure. He has noticed how Dani talks about you all the time and looks at you all the time so he decided it means he likes you.” Tito decided he would help the models with their love lives rather than writing about them. It would be much nicer to do that and he could sleep better at night.

Marc fell into deep thought. “You know, Dovi said something like that at the Spring photoshoot. And he fancies Dani himself, so why would he lie? Oh hello, Mav!”

Tito’s head jerked up at the mention of Maverick. There he was, smiling shyly as usual.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it.” Marc winked at Tito, nodded suggestively towards the new arrival and sauntered off.

“So I got your text. I agree. We can’t write about their love lives, it’s too mean,” the new arrival blurted.

“Thanks for being frank, Frank.” Tito grinned.

“That’s alright, Godfrey.” Maverick grinned too and they stayed grinning at each other for a few minutes, until the phone rang and interrupted.

After Tito had dealt with the call from the printing company, Maverick said, “I thought maybe instead, you could interview the models and get their ideas on life. Kind of like their world views. Iannone’s would be interesting, for sure. So would Aleix’s. Even Marc’s.”

“That’s another good idea! You should be the journalist, not me.”

“No, I can’t write blogs and things to save my life. I get too caught up with spelling and grammar.”

“Hey, what if you do the interviews? People like talking to you.”

“No they don’t. They like talking to _you_. Whenever I come to see you there’s someone talking to you, like Marc just now.”

“Well, I guess so.”

“You must let me know how you get on with your articles. You don’t want to work in reception all your life. I know this.”

Tito smiled at his thoughtfulness. Well, he just smiled at Maverick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well as the world seems to be in turmoil at the moment I thought I'd post another chapter of this to cheer us up. I've also received a piece of very good news, so I'm celebrating that too *thumbs up*


	6. Getting Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paths are starting to converge at Repsol House of Fashion...

The next morning, Marc was wandering through reception to his dressing room, still thinking about how he could check if Dani really liked him or not, when he walked straight into someone. He was about to say sorry, then realised it was Iannone. They stared at each other for a few minutes, stunned.

“You should look where you’re going!” exclaimed the Italian at last.

“S-so should you!” stammered Marc. “You still need to apologise to Dani for pushing him on the floor at the photoshoot!”

“And he needs to apologise to me for pushing me against that wall!”

“In your dreams! You were in the wrong, not him!”

“I was not! I am never in the wrong!” Iannone stepped towards him threateningly and Marc drew himself up to his full height, but luckily, before anything could happen, Dani strolled up.

“What’s going on here?” He looked from one to the other.

“Your boyfriend is insulting me again!” Iannone glared at the little model.

Marc blushed. _Oh my god, he’s giving my secret away to Dani! What shall I do?_ He stood rooted to the spot, inwardly panicking.

“Well, you insulted him on the boat, so you’re even now, aren’t you?” He stood in front of Iannone, looking up innocently into his face. Even the menacing Italian couldn’t bring himself to shove little Dani aside again, so he tutted loudly, turned on his heel and stormed off towards his dressing room.

Marc sagged with relief that Dani hadn’t been hurt again, then decided to take advantage of the moment.

“So,” he said, drawing him to the nearest seat. “What would your ideal date be if you could choose anything?”

Dani’s face lit up. “Surfing. I love being out on the ocean feeling the wind in my hair.”

Marc’s heart sank. He hated being out on open water. But if that was what Dani wanted, that’s what Dani would get. He set his jaw determinedly.

***

Later, Dovi was sitting outside in the grounds of the Repsol House of Fashion. The sun shone brightly and the sky was blue with no clouds, so he had chosen to eat his lunch on a bench in the shade of a large, dense tree. A movement nearby caught his eye and he saw Aleix eating his own lunch on another bench. Dovi tried to attract his attention but the Catalan was looking down at his sandwiches—he seemed to be biting his nails too as one hand was at his mouth.

It wasn’t like him to be subdued, so after debating with himself whether to interrupt him or not, the Italian sauntered over to him.

“Morning, Aleix. Or afternoon now isn’t it.” He hovered near the bench, unsure what to do.

“Oh hello.” Aleix looked up, wearing a faint copy of his normal grin. “I need to apologise to you.”

“What? Why? You haven’t upset me.”

“I mean because I was distracting you from your meeting yesterday. Nakamoto saw you watching and said I was very unprofessional to interfere with another department and I should apologise for doing that. He said it was my first behaviour warning.”

“What?! I was the only one who noticed. Livio and Iannone didn’t know anything about you dancing around like that—they didn’t see and I sure didn’t tell them. Nakamoto’s wrong.”

Aleix shrugged. “Well, I’m sorry anyway.”

“Don’t be. I haven’t laughed like that for a long while.” Dovi stared past him into the nearby bushes, thinking what he could do to ease the situation. It was awful to see Aleix quiet and sad like this. It was the first time Dovi had consciously thought that the tall Catalan was a few years younger than him and didn’t always know how to handle situations.

***

“So Tito,” said Maverick, materialising at the reception desk like a wizard.

“Yes? Yes, what?” Tito sat up at once. He smiled at the new arrival, hoping he didn’t look too smitten.

“I’ve looked up some sites which have questions you could ask the models. They’re like, _getting to know you,_ questions.”

“You mean, _do you come here often?_ Or, _apart from being sexy, what do you do for a living?_ ” Tito giggled.

“No, not those!” Maverick giggled as well. “Go on this site.” He read out the name of a website, _Best Ways to Get to Know Someone._

Maverick was leaning uncomfortably over the reception desk so Tito pulled up another chair and patted it. “Come and sit here, you can see better.” The young model needed no further invitation and hurried to the seat.

“These are no good,” he said, peering at the screen. “ _What is your favourite childhood food/ time of day/ mode of transportation?_ Who cares about those.”

“But what about this one— _what is your favourite body part?_ ” said Tito. “That would be interesting to ask models.” His journalist’s mind was working now. “It would tell readers a lot about someone. Some people would give very interesting answers!”

His companion laughed, a happy burbling sound that Tito liked. “Yes, keep that one. Now the ones asking _What if…?_ Those would be good.”

“Yes, what about— _if you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would do?_ ”

“I’d…buy my own tropical island and run an exclusive restaurant for rich people. I’d also bake tropical, exotic breads and cakes as a hobby.”

Tito looked at him. “Would you? Sounds nice. Can I come too?”

“Yes, of course. We’d buy a luxury yacht with the profit from all of that and go on adventures.”

“You’ve thought hard about this, haven’t you?”

“Guess I have.” Maverick avoided his eyes, then looked at the screen. “Oh my god, what about these questions? How stupid are they— _If you were reincarnated as an animal/drink/ice cream flavour, what would it be? If you could paint a picture of any scenery you’ve seen before, what would you paint?_ What would that tell people about anyone?” He laughed again.

Tito felt frustrated. _Does he like me or not? He’s a bit hot and cold._ He made a quick decision and said:

“This weather makes me tired,” 

Then yawned, stretching his arms above his head. It was corny but he let one arm fall across the back of Maverick’s chair. After a second, he felt a rush of relief and joy when the younger man moved a little closer to him, instead of pushing him away like he’d feared.

“What about this one? _What is something you learned in the last week?_ ” Maverick leant over to point at the screen, getting closer and closer until his leg was pushed right against Tito’s.

Tito beamed. _Well I’ve just learned something._ He wanted to pull Maverick onto his lap and kiss him til they both couldn’t breathe, but with models, managers, technicians of all types and visitors walking past every minute, it wouldn’t exactly look professional.

They sat there for another hour deciding on the five questions they would ask each model, taking ages mainly because they were either being distracted by visiting people or by each other.

“So are you going to help me with the interviews?” Tito managed to ask when they’d at last finished the list.

“Oh yes. I’ll be the sound recordist, whatever you want.” Maverick grinned right in his face, and it was like the sun shining and blinding him.

“R—right—we’ll start as—as soon as your s—schedule allows it,” Tito stuttered, wishing they could just run away to the tropical island right now.

“Come on Mav, Nakamoto wants us.” A strangely subdued Aleix was standing at the desk and the duo looked at him with concern.

“Is something wrong, you don’t look very—” began Maverick, starting to move his chair back from the desk. 

“I’m fine!” Aleix snapped. “But come on, we don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Tito and Maverick exchanged glances, the romantic atmosphere evaporating in a flash as they worried about their friend.

After the Office wear models had walked away, Maverick hovering around Aleix like a mother hen, Tito slumped. _So, he likes me. Now I must find somewhere nice to take him on a date. Maybe he’d relax a bit if he was out of work._ He wanted to be the perfect gentleman—well, that’s how his brain told him to behave with a seventeen year old—but other parts of him did not want to be a gentleman. He sighed and looked at the list of questions they’d decided on for the interviews:

• If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would do?

• What’s your favourite body part?

• What would you name the autobiography of your life? 

• What is something you learned in the last week? 

• Which celebrity do you get mistaken for? 

He wasn’t sure about the last question but the others were brilliant. The interviews could be really funny.

***

Directly after lunch, Dovi knocked on the door of Nakamoto’s office.

“Come in?”

The manager of the Office-wear department was setting out some designs on his large mahogany desk.

“Hello Andrea, what can I do for you?”

“Well, I just came to say—er—that it wasn’t Aleix’s fault he was distracting me from my meeting. I was encouraging him, so I’m half to blame too.”

Nakamoto frowned. “So you are saying you were cheering him on?”

“Kind of, yes. It’s not fair he gets all the blame. I just wanted to tell you that.”

The manager stared at him for a long time, long enough for Dovi to start fidgeting and hoping he’d done the right thing. 

After a while Nakamoto said, “well, that is very kind of you to own up. I won’t tell Livio about this, as it’s a minor matter. Just please, do not do this again. Interfering with another department’s business is unprofessional, I don’t expect my staff to do that and I’m sure Livio feels the same about his. Consider this your first warning and Aleix has already been given the same.” He gave a small bow so Dovi did too.

*** 

“How did you get the afternoon off for both of us?” asked Dani as he and Marc hurried away from the Repsol building.

“Santi had a long lunch with Livio, I think they got a bit drunk so he basically dozed off in his office.”

“Santi and Livio? Think they’re a couple?” Dani giggled. “Seducing each other over paella?”

“Ew, Dani, don’t! They’re old guys. They don’t do things like that.”

Dani laughed even more, then thought it would be wise to change the subject. “Where are we going?”

“Well…you said you wanted to go surfing, so that’s where we’re going. My dad arranged for us to borrow surfboards for the afternoon. He has friends who run a company doing that so he asked them.” Marc was rambling because he was nervous.

“Wow! That’s amazing, thanks Marc.” Dani gave him a sideways hug. _Is my dream coming true and he’s actually taking me out?_ “So can you surf or is this your first time?” 

“I’ve never surfed. I’m a surfing virgin.” He winked. He wasn’t going to tell Dani he was terrified of water and sharks. Hopefully there wouldn’t be any sharks near a beach frequented by surfers though.

Dani was excited at the thought of teaching someone to do something from scratch. Marc always seemed so self-assured and confident for a nineteen-year-old—happy in the limelight, always looking perfect and gorgeous. Now it was time for Dani to show him something he didn’t know how to do. Dani chuckled to himself at how rude that sounded—although he was sure Marc would know how to do what he was thinking of!

***

They arrived at the beach after a taxi ride, and Dani bounded out of the cab towards the water, followed by a slower Marc.

After putting on the wetsuits—slowly in Marc’s case, quickly in Dani’s—they walked towards the line of surfboards. Marc’s dad was there—he hugged his son, and nodded at Dani.

“Have you told him how scared you are?” he whispered to Marc.

“No! Shut up!”

“What?” asked Dani, edging closer to the two Marquezes. 

“This is my dad, Julia,” said Marc. “And this is my—er—my—”

“I’m his work colleague, Dani. We work closely together.” He shook hands with the older man.

“Are you ready?” He directed Marc to put his board down on the beach. He was determined to give him a good tutorial, so showed him how to stand on the board, how to lie and paddle, how to crouch on it and all the other positions he needed to know. 

After half an hour, he felt satisfied that Marc knew enough, because he was fit and strong enough to manage all the basic techniques. He got distracted admiring Marc in various positions. _Stop perving, I’ve got to keep him safe, not lust over him._

“How far out do we have to go?” asked the younger model and Dani pointed out into the distance. “Okay.”

They put the boards in the water and paddled out.

“Copy me!” shouted Dani, heading for a wave, then standing up and surfing the beautiful blue swell, which glistened in the sunlight.

Marc just watched with his mouth open, then remembered he was supposed to be learning. He paddled his board out, trying not to imagine sharks and other terrible animals gnashing their teeth or tentacles beneath him in the water.

The first three waves he couldn’t master the technique and wobbled, managing not to fall into the den of imaginary creatures below, but on the fourth he slipped and ended up plunging into the crystal waters, which were luckily not deep. Trying not to panic, he crawled back onto his board.

 _I must do this! I can’t make a total fool of myself in front of Dani!_ Gritting his teeth, he paddled back out to the waves, and forced himself into a crouching position, then standing. He caught the surf and swished majestically along it, heading towards the beach. He passed Dani who was cheering, and whistling—although he ended up falling into the water, it was worth it.

“That’s great, Marc,” exclaimed Dani, splashing towards him. “You’ve got the knack, now we can stay out longer.”

“Longer?” Marc had hoped once he’d mastered the technique, they could go back to the beach more quickly.

Dani was paddling back out again already, and he soon caught wave after wave, his body looking perfect balancing in dynamic poses on the board. Marc had an average of catching one out of every three waves, ending up in the water more times than not.

After a couple of hours, he had endured enough, and paddled his board slowly back towards the beach, praying that some terrible underwater creature wouldn’t grab him just as he thought he was safe. Nearly there…nearly…nearly. And then at last he was in the shallows and back on the beach. He exhaled, grinning.

“Are you okay?” Dani caught up with him after a few minutes. “We’ve still got lots of time before sunset.”

“I want to stop now. I’ve done enough for today.” He sat on the sand, holding his knees and knowing nothing would persuade him to go back into the water.

Dani sat next to him. “Are you sure? I mean—you look a bit pale. Did you hurt yourself? Or get too tired? Or pull a muscle? I’m so grateful you arranged this for me, I probably didn’t make that clear enough, sorry. If you’re really tired, of course we can stop. Or maybe you’ve got other plans? Of course, how silly of me, you’re probably going out this evening, I expect you’re—”

“No!” snapped Marc. “I mean, Dani, please stop talking. I’m just scared of water and sharks and whatever other animals live in the sea. I know it’s stupid but I can’t help it.”

Dani stared at him and Marc stared back, his heart sinking. _He probably thinks I’m a coward, a waste of space and a baby._

“So, although you are frightened of all that stuff, you still arranged for me to have a surfing lesson, and came with me, just because—because—”

“Because, I really like you and want you to be happy.” He gazed into Dani’s eyes, they were wide and dark and his heart lifted.

“M-marc, you’re so nice. I’ve really liked you for ages.” Dani took his hand and drew it towards him, pulling Marc closer until at last their lips met in a cautious kiss, which got decidedly less cautious in the following minutes.

After a while they realised people were staring at the two handsome models making out, so separated and just sat together on the warm golden sand.

“I can’t believe how brave you are. Spending hours in the water if you’re terrified? That’s heroic.” Dani patted Marc’s thigh. “Next time we’ll do something _I’m_ scared of so you can get even.”

 _Next time? Get even?_ Marc’s ears pricked up.

“I don’t want to get even,” he clarified. “I like the sound of _next time_ though.”

***

Just before leaving work for the day, Dovi stood chatting to Tito at the reception desk.

“It must be really interesting being a journalist, where would you like to end up eventually?” he asked.

“I suppose I…hm…I’d like to be an editor of a magazine one day,” said Tito as he filed away some forms in his cabinet. “Either fashion or some kind of sport, or even design.”

“Writing isn’t my strong point, you must be really clever.”

Tito laughed. “Not clever, I’m just good with words. Not so good with people.”

“You’re fine with people! Everyone likes you at Repsol.” Dovi became aware of someone hovering nearby and turned to see Aleix bouncing up and down on his toes. “Hello?”

“What did you say to Nakamoto?”

“I—I—just told him—that—that it wasn’t all your fault you distracted me in that meeting. I told him—that I—I was encouraging you.” Dovi felt like the whole world was watching him. Tito was frowning slightly, the other models were passing by on their way out of the door to go home, all eyeing them curiously.

“Oh—er—oh.” It was the first time Dovi—or Tito—had seen Aleix lost for words and they looked at him, waiting for him to say more. 

“Well, thanks for trying,” he said at last. He gave Dovi a quick hug, making the Italian stagger a little with surprise. “See you tomorrow.” He stepped back, blushing and hurried out of the front door.

“Ooh!” said Tito. “Someone’s got an admirer.”

“Shut up.”

Luckily for Dovi, the phone rang before Tito could interrogate him more. He wasn’t sure if Aleix was pleased or angry about what he’d said to Nakamoto, and walked home still mystified. But he knew he’d done the right thing defending Aleix, he couldn’t leave him to get all the blame for something so silly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of fun before the race tonight. Just in case.
> 
> I also realised it is one year since I joined AO3. Hoorah! *sprays champagne*


	7. Finding Things Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tito and Maverick begin their project. Well that is one word for it…

“Do you think they’d let me produce a Repsol House of Fashion newsletter or magazine?” asked Tito of Maverick as he wrote an email to the models asking if they wanted to be interviewed.

“I bet they would! They’d like the publicity and it might get you a proper journalist job. But if they don’t, just write the answers on a blog. _The Secret World of Repsol House of Fashion.”_

They giggled. Tito liked the amount of giggling he did with Maverick, it livened up the boredom of his job.

Within five minutes of sending the email, Iannone arrived at the reception desk.

“I would like to be interviewed,” he said, posturing like a peacock. “People need to hear my opinion about everything, it will be enlightening for them.” As usual, he was wearing a sleeveless t-shirt, and board shorts—suddenly he caught sight of a nearby mirror and stood in various postures admiring himself.

“Certainly sir,” said Tito sarcastically. “When would be convenient for you?”

“I have free time now. Where will you interview me?”

“How about my dressing room?” suggested Maverick. “All Tito’s notes are in there.”

“Okay. I’ll just arrange reception cover.” Tito picked up the phone. Luckily some of the younger models loved managing reception because they got to chat on the phone, meet important visitors and generally be seen by everyone passing, so it was easy to recruit them.

Tito and Iannone followed Maverick into his dressing room and the two interviewers sat on the sofa.

“So, Andrea,” began Tito when he’d set up the recording equipment. “If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would do?”

Iannone paused, clutching his hair dramatically. “Er—um—I would open a casino and fill it with beautiful people, visitors would spend lots of money and I’d be rich, with a house in every country.”

Maverick snorted, then turned it into a cough. “Sorry,” he said. “Hay fever.”

Tito forced himself not to smile. “So, the next question. Have you ever been mistaken for a celebrity? If so, which one?”

Iannone glared at him. “No one ever mistakes me for another celebrity! If so, I am mistaken for myself as I am so famous. I have signed autographs many times for my fans.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one,” muttered Maverick.

“Shh!” hissed Tito to him and continued talking to his interviewee. “That sounds very flattering, do you know any other famous people?”

Iannone launched into a description of all the celebrity parties he’d attended, standing up and gesturing excitedly while Tito and Maverick nodded and made polite noises of interest. When they had heard enough, Tito asked the next question:

“What would the name of your autobiography be, as you’ve had such interesting experiences?”

“I would call it…hm… _Perfection.”_ He was looking at himself in a mirror again, flexing his arms and puffing out his chest.

Maverick had to look away as he couldn’t help a giggle slipping out, making the sofa shake and infecting Tito.

“So that leads _perfectly_ onto the next question,” he said, trying to ignore Maverick and suppress his laughter. “See what I did there?” 

Iannone looked mystified but Maverick winked at the interviewer and gave an exaggerated thumbs-up sign.

“Anyway…the question is, what is your favourite body part?”

“Well…” Iannone posed in front of the mirror. “It’s hard to choose, it is all so good.” He regarded himself from all angles. “Maybe my chest? Or my face? Or legs?” 

“Uh oh. He’s having a situation,” muttered Maverick to Tito.

“What?”

“Look at his shorts.”

Tito looked. There was a noticeable bulge in the front.

“Oh my god, he’s getting aroused by himself.” Tito’s whisper was full of laughter.

Maverick couldn’t speak because he was red in the face with trying to suppress his own giggles.

“I think really, I like my whole body,” said Iannone. “It is so perfect.” He continued to pose in different positions.

“So, the last question,” said Tito in a strangled voice. “What is something important or meaningful that you’ve learned in the last week?”

“Well…I found out I can bend much further backwards than I thought I could.” He began to demonstrate, which of course made the bulge in his shorts even more obvious.

“Sorry, I must go and see my boss,” spluttered Maverick, his voice unrecognisable due to stifled laughter. He hurried out of the door, leaving Tito to watch the contortions of Iannone.

***

“Well, th—thanks for the—the interview,” Tito stuttered when he'd had enough, trying hard to remain professional and keep his voice under control.

Iannone stood up. “Where’s Maverick gone?”

“He had to g-go to a m-meeting.”

“Oh did he. He’s cute. So…have you fucked that sweet little arse yet? I bet he’s a virgin, isn’t he?”

“Erm…what?” Suddenly Tito didn’t feel like laughing at all.

“Have you fucked him yet?”

“None of your business!” Tito stood up too, feeling anger beginning to burn.

“So you haven’t,” sneered the Italian. “If you don’t do it soon, someone else will.” He mimed holding someone and fucking them from behind. “Maybe me! He’s begging for it.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Tito pushed him so hard that he staggered. Anything to stop the horrible mockery.

“How dare you touch me?” Iannone squared up to the blond Catalan and they pushed and shoved each other. “Don’t spoil my face!” he shouted.

“Get out of here!” Tito propelled him by the t-shirt towards the door.

“Why? Hit a nerve? He doesn’t want you?”

“Go fuck yourself!”

“He wants a real man, not a receptionist!” crowed Iannone.

Tito pushed him against the wall near the door, then opened it. “Get out! And don’t come back!” He shoved him away, then saw Maverick standing nearby, his eyes wide. Tito cursed himself inwardly.

Iannone was alarmed for a second at how furious the mild-mannered Tito had become, he was more like an angry bear in the doorway. But the Italian straightened his shorts and turned to flounce away—he would have done too, if Maverick’s foot hadn’t somehow been sticking out. It tripped him over, so instead he staggered away clumsily.

Tito and Maverick stared at each other.

“He’s such a jerk off,” said Maverick. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let him touch me.”

Tito’s heart sank. “S-so you heard what he said.”

“Yeah. I heard all of it.”

“I’m so sorry, I’d never talk about you like that, he just came out with it.”

People were staring at them and Iannone was complaining loudly in the distance, so Maverick drew Tito back into his dressing room.

“I also heard you defending me like a hero.” He looked up at Tito with big eyes.

“Well, I—er—well, I thought—”

“Thanks.” He stood on tiptoe and kissed Tito on the lips, a brief but warm feeling. The blond was so surprised that he stumbled backwards and fell against the wall, but Maverick was ready and supported him. He kissed him again and Tito felt a tongue at his lips, so opened his mouth slightly to let him in and their tongues danced round each other, gently at first, then more forcefully, until Maverick was pinning him against the wall and his fingers were twining in brown hair. The young model made a growling noise and Tito buckled at the knees, sliding down the wall a little.

Maverick led him to the sofa and they fell onto it, Tito somehow sank backwards but he didn’t care what position they were in, as long as they kept on kissing. He wriggled so his legs fell away from each other and Maverick fitted nicely between them. He felt how neat and compact Maverick was compared to his long gangly body, he felt like a spider wrapped around him, holding him in place. Which would be appropriate if he’d lured him into his web but it was the other way round, really. Not that he thought about that for longer than a second, with one hand on such a firm arse and the fingers of the other weaving through thick dark hair. He was losing his breath, it came in moans and whimpers, as did Maverick’s.

As they kissed deeply, grinding against each other’s hardness, it was almost painful but so much on the edge between pain and pleasure there was no way Tito wanted it to stop. He was just thinking he was about to embarrass himself when someone knocked on the door and pushed it open.

“Sorry I’m late, I thought—Oh my god! Sorry, guys!”

Tito glanced over to see an open mouthed Marc staring at them. He flapped his hand at the intruder to get him to leave, while Maverick buried his face in Tito’s shoulder—he didn’t want to look at random people right at that moment.

“So sorry! I’ll come back later.” Marc gave an exaggerated wink, then turned away, saying, “maybe lock the door?” before hurrying off.

Maverick wriggled, and Tito unwound his legs, letting him sit up.

“I’ll lock it.” The young model hobbled towards the door, then came back and sat on the sofa. “I need a breather.”

Tito sat up. “Are you okay? Did I do something wrong—was I—”

“No, you’re fine. I just—I’m going to need new underwear if we carry on like that.” He was red as a beetroot.

“Oh, me too, I’m the same,” Tito said quickly. “Probably good that Marc interrupted us, or we’d be doing the laundry all day.”

They giggled.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” Tito blurted before he could overthink it. “I want things to be nice, not just something happening on an old sofa at work with people knocking on the door. I don’t want to assume anything but what do you think?” He felt a blush heating him now.

“That sounds—that sounds—I’d like that.” Maverick smiled. “Let’s go tonight!”

“We can or tomorrow?”

“What would we do after the dinner?”

“Well…I live with my dad and brother, they’re really nosy so I don’t want to go back there. What about you?” Tito was also a bit ashamed at how poor his family was—he was sure Maverick’s family didn’t live in a terraced house in a poor area. He didn’t want a possible boyfriend to see his home and think he was a loser.

“Same here, I live with my parents.”

“Maybe we could come back here? I’m the receptionist, I can get in any time I like. Sorry if that sounds weird but out of office hours there wouldn’t be anyone knocking on the door or being nosy or rude. Tell me if you think—”

“I’d love to. It would be like our secret hideaway.”

They grinned at each other.

***

“Oh, Dani, oh my god, guess what I saw,” gabbled Marc, as he burst into his colleague’s dressing room.

Dani stood at the mirror, shaving and peering at his jawline. “What?”

“Maverick and Tito making out on the sofa. I thought I was going to have an interview but instead I got a floorshow.” He giggled.

“A floorshow, like what?”

Marc flung himself onto the sofa. “Maverick was like this.” He mimed pinning someone down, kissing them with tongue and thrusting against them. “And Tito was like this.” He rolled onto his back, pretending to stroke someone’s hair, the other cupping his arse, getting more and more exaggerated every minute.

Dani laughed, putting down his razor. “Do I have to pay you now? As it’s a floorshow?”

Marc cackled with his usual loud laugh. “What will you pay me with?”

“Oh, well, you’ll have to see.” He ambled towards the sofa and posed in a Superman way, puffing his chest out, hands on hips, but staggered when Marc grabbed his leg.

“Don’t worry, Superman, I’ve got you.” He pulled Dani down on top of him. “How did this happen? How convenient.”

“I wonder.” Dani wriggled so he was lying more comfortably.

“So, Tito was like this.” Marc kissed him on the lips, gently and nothing like the way Tito and Maverick had been doing it. He stroked Dani’s hair and let his other hand shuffle down to pinch his bum.

“Ow! You’re so violent.” Dani tried to look stern.

“Oh, punish me then.” Marc waggled his eyebrows.

“So bossy too.”

“You love it.” 

Dani kissed him this time and they began kissing more and more passionately til Dani was pressing him down into the sofa and slipping his hand inside his t-shirt. Marc arched backwards then forwards so he could free it and pull it over his head. Then it was Dani’s turn to have his t-shirt ripped off so their naked, hot skin and muscles rubbed against each other as they kissed. Marc wriggled his hand down Dani’s body into his jeans, making him pause and gasp.

“Okay?” he asked, and the smaller man nodded.

Before they could do anything else though, someone knocked on the door and Dani found himself tipped sideways into the sofa. He started to say, “what the fuck?” but Marc put a hand over his mouth.

“Where’s Dani?” asked Santi’s voice. “What are you doing, Marc?”

“I’m—er—sleeping—um—”

“In Dani’s room? Well you must come to a meeting with all the departments. Livio’s got a big announcement.”

Dani sneezed.

“What? Who’s there?” Santi frowned

Dani popped his head up and peered over Marc.

“Oh hello, Santi, nice to see you,” he said politely. “Er—having a good day?”

“What are you doing?” Their boss frowned and stepped forward, saw that both his models were naked to the waist with their jeans undone, and stepped back. “Oh! Really, you two! How unprofessional to do that during work time!”

“Sorry, Santi,” they chorused, smirking.

“We need to have a serious talk about workplace etiquette. I’ll talk to you directly after Livio’s meeting!” He swished out, his smock flapping. Although today it looked more like a kimono, embroidered with Japanese symbols and cherry blossom.

“That’s karma for you.” Marc sat up.

“Karma? You mean because you barged in on Tito and Mav?”

“Yeah. And I didn’t learn from it and lock your door. Santi didn’t look happy at all, did he?”

“Well, there’s not much we can do now. Should we go to this meeting?”

Marc sighed. “I guess so. Although he surely won’t expect us to turn up like this.” He gestured to their half-dressed bodies.

“But we couldn’t miss it? Could we?” Dani wore a naughty grin.

“Probably best if we avoid Santi for a while.” Marc grinned back. “I’ll lock the door, shall I? Better late than never.”

***

Livio sat in the meeting room of the Occasion wear department waiting for everyone to turn up. He’d tried knocking on Iannone’s door and been met with a tantrum, so he told the temperamental model to get over himself and come to the meeting as soon as possible. He fiddled with his cufflinks, as he was dressed flamboyantly as usual in an evening suit, this time made of purple velvet, with a crisp yellow shirt underneath. He did love his bright colours.

Dovi sat at the opposite end of the table, looking at his phone and trying to be invisible, as he’d no idea what to say to his boss when they were alone. He wanted the others to turn up just as much as Livio did.

The door opened, and in stalked Santi.

“Are your two boys following?” He looked behind the bearded Catalan for the models, to no avail.

“Er—probably—I don’t know.” He blushed, avoiding Livio’s eyes.

“Well I hope they are! This is important.”

“I know. Don’t worry, I’ll be having words with them shortly.”

Then Nakamoto glided in, wearing his usual monochrome outfit—a dark grey pinstriped suit with a white shirt underneath, and shoes shined so they gleamed like mirrors. He was followed by Aleix, who quickly went to sit next to Dovi.

“No Maverick?” asked Livio of his Japanese colleague.

“No, his room is locked so he’s probably not in there.”

Livio tutted at the poor turn out. The younger models were milling around outside but they didn’t tend to stay long in their jobs due to temporary contracts, the fast-paced movement of the model industry, finding new jobs and so on. So Livio didn’t count them as necessary to be brought into the meeting. He turned to the people who had bothered to turn up.

“Have we done something wrong?” faltered Aleix, who had lost a bit of confidence after the dancing episode. 

Dovi glared at Livio, hoping neither of them were about to get a telling off.

“No, no, no, boys!” exclaimed Livio, pouring out some red wine for everyone. “I just wanted to tell the core staff at Repsol that we have won a huge contract with the international modelling agency Dorna, which represents a vast number of fashion houses, such as Yamaha Moda, Vogue Ducati, and Suzuki-Homme. Dorna was very impressed with our Spring and Summer fashion shoots so we will now be included in their publicity events—”

“Ooh!” said Aleix. “Those companies have such good models! That famous guy Valentino Rossi from Yamaha Moda, and Jorge Lorenzo and Michele Pirro from Vogue Ducati, and Alvaro Bautista from—”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Livio flapped at him. “But my point is, Dorna has invited us to a late summer party to meet them and start networking. It’s a huge opportunity, we must all be on our best behaviour and make an excellent impression. Mustn’t we?” He looked at Nakamoto and Santi, who were nodding enthusiastically.

“I’d hoped to tell the other models but they all seem to be elsewhere or sulking. Aleix, could you tell Maverick? And Dovi, tell Iannone? God knows where Marc, Dani and Tito are too, they’ve all disappeared.”

“Maybe they’re having a threesome in the clothes store,” whispered Aleix to Dovi, and the Italian nearly choked on his wine.

“Are you quite well?” asked Nakamoto. “Perhaps water would be better than wine.”

“No, no, I’m fine. Sorry. It all sounds very interesting. I’m looking forward to seeing what happens with Dorna.”

“Saluti!” said Livio, clinking glasses with everyone. “We must have a party to celebrate our new position!”


	8. An Inharmonious Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People try and get in the way of romance. But someone gets rebellious and someone gets masterful.

Dani and Marc managed to avoid their boss for the rest of that day, but the next morning, Santi sent for his models and they shuffled into his office, uncertain what he was going to say.

“I want to get straight to the point.” Santi was pacing up and down by his desk. “I don’t agree with co-workers having relationships in my department. I don’t want you showing any signs of affection during working hours. In fact, I advise you not to have a relationship at all, because believe me, it will only cause trouble when you break up and have to continue working together.”

Dani and Marc stared at him.

“But you can’t stop us having a relationship!” blurted the younger model.

“Why do you assume we’re going to break up?” gasped the older.

“I’ve seen all this before, boys. It’s inevitable. Young people or even older ones, who work together as well as spending all their leisure time together, always get tired of each other and there is a messy break up.” Santi set his jaw.

“You can’t generalise, Santi!” exclaimed Marc. “Me and Dani are different, you don’t know—”

Dani laid a hand on his boyfriend’s arm, hushing him. 

“I’m sorry this doesn’t fit in with your wishes, but believe me, it’s for the best. I have managed countless models in my time and office romances never work.” Santi folded his arms and frowned.

The other two couldn’t think what to say for a while.

“Well,” Dani ventured at last. “We’ll do our best, but I—”

“It’s not fair!” interrupted Marc. “Why are you victimising us? Other people in Repsol are having relationships. It’s not company policy, it’s—”

“You’re right. It’s not company policy. It’s MY policy. I don’t like my models having relationships. I’m not discussing it any longer.”

Marc and Dani just sat there with mouths opening and closing, trying to think of something to say.

“Secondly, the meeting Livio just held, which you two so rudely missed, was about a very exciting new opportunity.” Santi told them all about Dorna and all the opportunities opening up before the Repsol company.

The models were gobsmacked for the second time within a few minutes, and just stared at their boss. Normally this news would have made Marc, at least, excited but due to the previous conversation, his thoughts were going off in all different directions. _Me and Dani aren’t allowed to be affectionate at work and Santi doesn’t want us to even be together outside work! I won’t have it! It’s none of his business, the old fool, what does he know about love?_ Marc ground his teeth. _It’s just a challenge—we can hide from him at work, he won’t stop us._ He felt a surge of rebellion rushing through his veins.

“So, we’ll all be going to the Dorna party soon, and I hope you’ll present your best professional and competent aspect to these important people,” Santi finished.

“We’ll do our best, thanks for letting us know,” said Dani politely, even though he was feeling just as angry as Marc.

“Thank you, boys. Now go back to your work. We’ve got the next shoot coming up soon.” Santi nodded at them and they stood up, bewildered and stumbled out.

“What the hell was that about?” exclaimed Marc. “He’s lost it.”

“I dunno…hm…maybe he’s been hurt by an office romance…what are _we_ going to do though?”

“Well, I’m going to ignore him. It’ll just make it more interesting. We can meet secretly and hide from Santi.” Marc giggled mischievously.

“Should we? Won’t we lose our jobs?”

“Not if we are really careful. And I bet the others would cover for us. Aleix loves being naughty and Tito doesn’t like injustice.”

Dani grinned at him, then they regretfully separated into their dressing rooms to be made up and dressed for the shoot.

***

That evening after work, Tito and Maverick went out for dinner. They wandered along the esplanade looking at various restaurants.

“What about this one?” asked Maverick when they reached a place with yellow table cloths, red parasols and lots of waiters rushing round.

“Too busy,” said Tito, so they strolled along further. 

“What about this?” 

They stood outside a restaurant with white table cloths, a grey marble floor, bamboo backed chairs and about six knives and forks at each place setting.

“Too posh.”

Maverick rolled his eyes. “You’re so fussy.” But he stroked Tito’s arm to make up for his tone.

“I prefer to be called selective.” He stuck his nose in the air, making them both giggle.

They were nearly at the end of the esplanade when he spotted the perfect place. It had a cool, uncluttered atmosphere with cream table cloths and a warm honey coloured floor. The tables sat under forest green sunshades and were divided from each other by trellises with leafy plants growing up them, so each was quite private.

“This is the one,” he said, taking Maverick’s hand and leading him inside.

“Welcome, sirs,” said a waiter. “Table for two?” He led them to one at the edge of the restaurant, seeming to sense they wanted privacy, and handed them two menus which looked like they were printed on parchment.

“What should we have? I usually go out with my parents and they choose,” said Maverick, peering at the menu.

“Why are you asking me, I don’t know.” Tito’s family couldn’t afford to go out to restaurants, he’d had to save his wages to be able to take Maverick out. He hoped he hadn’t bitten off more than he could chew by doing so—he’d no idea how to behave at a restaurant. But he shouldn’t take it out on Maverick. “I mean, why don’t you choose?”

“Let’s have…er...Prawns with Romesco sauce and Patatas Bravas. I love those.” Maverick tried to look innocent to cover up his devious plan.

After they’d ordered, they sat chatting and laughing, and looking out over the ocean. The sun made the water sparkle and glitter, the gentle lapping of the waves was soothing, and even the squawking of the sea birds wasn’t annoying. So it only seemed a few minutes until the dishes arrived, brought in with a flourish by the waiter.

“Thank you,” said Maverick.

Tito felt slightly out of his depth—he couldn’t even remember the last time he went out to a posh dinner like this. It must have been his cousin’s wedding a few years ago, when his mum had still been alive.

“Tito?” Maverick patted his hand. “You look far away, come back?”

“Oh sorry.” Before the blond could say anymore, his companion held out a prawn on his fork.

“Try this.” 

Tito allowed him to put the food in his mouth, and immediately the taste of the sauce touched his tongue, he made a noise of delight. “That’s amazing, what is it?”

Maverick reeled off the list of ingredients of the Romesco sauce—pepper, garlic, chili, tomatoes, hazelnuts, almonds, parsley—and fed him another prawn. “This is what we’ll serve in our tropical island restaurant.”

“Oh, that’s still on, is it?” Tito grinned.

“And these.” He speared some small potato cubes out of the Patatas Bravas, dipped them in the sauce and offered them to Tito on his fork.

“I’ll get fat if you keep feeding me like this.” He smiled.

“You need to. You need to put some weight on.” Maverick smiled even wider.

Tito accepted the potato into his mouth and again, his eyes widened with pleasure. “Mm…don’t tell me what’s in this one. Is it the same as the other but without the nuts?”

“Yes, well done.” He gazed at him, took his hand and looked into his eyes. “Tito, I want to tell you—”

“I knew it was you!” shouted a voice close by. Both guys turned to look, Maverick annoyed, Tito disappointed.

A young man, who looked very similar to Maverick, strode up, grinning.

“What do you want, Isaac?” snapped the model.

Tito compared the two—was this Maverick’s brother?

“I just happened to see you and wondered what you were doing? Is this your boyfriend? Does your dad know you’re out with him? Does he know—”

“It’s none of your business! Get lost!” Maverick glared at him.

“Isn’t he a bit old for you?” Isaac eyed Tito, not too kindly.

“Are you deaf? It's none of your business. Go away!”

Isaac shrugged and flounced off. Some of the other diners were staring, and Maverick and Tito shrunk down into their chairs, blushing.

“I’m so sorry about him. He’s always been jealous of me. He wants to be a model but he’s never made the effort to do anything about it.”

“Is he your brother?”

“No, cousin. He’s only one year older than me but thinks he can boss me around. He can be a right prick sometimes.”

They sat there for a while, admiring the beautiful view and watching the people passing by.

“Anyway, where were we?” said Maverick after a while. He smiled sweetly, his composure restored.

“You were holding my hand and about to tell me something.” Tito smiled sweetly back.

“Oh yes, I—”

But for the second time, he was interrupted.

“Maverick Viñales!” shouted a voice. Someone barged towards them, provoking indignant cries from the other diners. The couple turned to see a red faced, stocky, middle-aged man lumbering towards them and he stopped at their table.

“Dad?” said Maverick, his expression darkening. “What are you doing here?”

“What are _you_ doing? You shouldn’t be out on a date with this—this person!” Señor Viñales eyed Tito with scorn.

Maverick glared at him. “He’s not _this person._ This is Tito. He’s my boyfriend.”

Tito smiled at being called Maverick’s boyfriend. Now he knew where he stood for sure.

“Boyfriend? When did you start having boyfriends? You know I don’t agree with that whatsoever! I—”

“Well get used to it, Dad. This is how I am, like it or lump it. I’m old enough to decide for myself what I do!”

“What? Maverick! You’re seventeen years old! How much older is this—this Tito?”

“I’m twenty-two,” said Tito, aware of all the other diners gawping at the scene.

“Far too old for you!” snapped Señor Viñales to his son. “He just wants to take advantage of you! You’re coming home with me right now!”

Isaac was standing behind his uncle, smirking. Maverick stood up, his chair falling backwards.

“No, Dad! I’m not coming home with you! Tito is the nicest, gentlest, kindest guy and he isn’t taking advantage of me! I’ll come home later when I’m ready.”

“Don’t take that tone with me! You’re coming home now or not at all!”

They glared at each other for a few moments. The whole room fell silent, the guests and waiters all watching the scene.

“Well I guess it’s _not at all_ then!” retorted Maverick at last.

The restaurant manager glided up to the group. “Sir, we don’t tolerate arguing here,” he said to Señor Viñales. “We pride ourselves on giving our guests a calm and relaxing experience, so if you’re going to shout, I request that you leave. Immediately.”

Maverick’s father glared at him and opened his mouth to argue, but the manager beckoned two burly waiters over. 

Tito was gazing adoringly at Maverick, who was standing tall, his hands on his hips, alternately glaring at his father and his cousin. The blond wondered if he had hearts in his eyes as he gazed at his knight in shining armour. _My boyfriend. My boyfriend is Maverick Viñales._ He rested his head on his hand so he could look more closely at his handsome boyfriend.

With a huff and a lot of mumbling under his breath, Señor Viñales turned on his heel and strode out, escorted by the waiters, with Isaac scurrying after him, looking embarrassed.

The manager turned to the couple. “We also don’t tolerate prejudice here, so please accept this gift with our compliments.” He presented them with a bottle of dark red wine, then the other diners gave a round of applause.

“Thank you.” Maverick took it graciously and sat down again. He looked at Tito, who was still gazing admiringly at him. “What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just trying to get back into the swing of writing. However sad we are, we have to keep moving.


	9. Preparing for the Summer Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone prepares for the Dorna Summer party, but is it a disaster waiting to happen?

“That was fun last night,” said Tito next morning, as he lay cuddled up on the sofa with Maverick in his dressing room. His neck ached from the weird position he’d slept in overnight but he wouldn’t have changed the whole experience one bit.

“Was it? Even though my dad barged in?”

“Well never mind him. He was only there a few minutes. I had a great time.” He kissed Maverick slowly, dreamily. They’d hurried ‘home’ to the Repsol offices after the meal, as Maverick insisted he wasn’t going back to his parents’ house.

***

“Let them stew for a bit. They can’t treat me like a kid,” he’d said defiantly. “I’m going to live here and be independent.”

But he’d obviously been more stressed than he’d let on, because he’d fallen asleep in Tito’s arms within ten minutes, once they’d settled on the sofa.

Tito had been worried, however. His boyfriend had decided to live alone in that huge Repsol building and there was no way he could leave him there on his own. He’d texted his dad to tell him the situation, and as usual Esteban Rabat was very understanding. It had been tricky to text as he could only use one hand due to holding Maverick with the other to prevent him falling off the sofa. But he’d got the situation across to his dad, who’d offered to let Maverick stay with them.

But Tito replied that he’d think about it. The Rabats lived in a rough part of town, the Repsol building was in a safe area, and it was a luxurious and comfortable place with all amenities. Maybe it was better for Maverick to stay here.

***

“You’re lost in thought again.” Maverick prodded him in the arm. “Are you worried about something?”

“Yes. You.”

“Well don’t be. I’ve got it all planned. I’ve got a fridge, a microwave, a shower and a sort of bed here. I could tell Nakamoto my sofa is broken and I need a new one, and ask for a sofa bed. He’s a nice guy, he’ll let me have one. Or, I’ll ask Livio, he’s nice too.” He beamed into Tito’s face. “You could live here with me too if you want. Or at least come and visit.”

“I could. We could pretend to go home every day, then come back later. I’ve got the keys and I know the alarm code. I could reset it once we’re inside.”

“Sounds perfect. We’ll have a great time. I don’t need my dad and the rest of them. I can do it all on my own.” He lifted his chin proudly. “With your help I hope, though?”

“Yes of course.”

Tito hadn’t realised exactly how determined his boyfriend was. He was so young but once he’d set his mind on a course, nothing could move him. Tito mused on that thought for a while, but then also became aware of a persistent need. Last night they’d just fallen asleep together but the usual morning erection was making itself known, pressing on Maverick too no doubt.

“Oh hello, little Tito,” he said, right on cue. “Or not-so-little-Tito.” They giggled. “He wants attention.” He slid his hand down and rubbed the back of it against not-so-little-Tito.

“Ohhhhh.” Tito’s body jerked forward against the hand so Maverick wriggled it inside the tenting boxers, grasping the hard flesh and stroking up and down.

“Stop a minute.” Tito moved a bit so he could get his own hand into Maverick’s pants and do the same to him, and they moved into a more comfortable position, half laughing, half groaning. It was too much effort to actually take their boxers off and it somehow seemed hotter with their hands in each other’s underwear.

It was difficult to manoeuvre on the cramped sofa and each had to brace himself with one hand while the other was busy. They kissed, gently at first but more and more passionately until Maverick was pressing Tito against the backrest of the sofa. 

Forgetting everything else, Tito felt he was floating as his tongue explored Maverick’s mouth. It was like a moist, lush cave only he was allowed into and as neither of them had cleaned their teeth that morning, he got a strong hit of Maverick, which just made him more addicted. They continued kissing and stroking each other more and more enthusiastically until the sofa began to tip because Maverick was pressing him back so strongly. Then it overbalanced, landing on its back with a bang.

“You okay?” Maverick paused in concern.

“I’m-fine-don’t-stop,” gabbled Tito and received a groan in response as they continued kissing and stroking each other. 

Maverick gasped and jolted, heat spurting out all over Tito’s hand. As he watched his lover under the spell of ultimate pleasure—his eyes closed, his teeth biting his lip—Tito felt for a brief second that this must be heaven before he joined him, shuddering through it, hot lust gushing out all over them and between them. They held each other contentedly, Maverick nuzzling against his shoulder. He suddenly looked up and said, “you’re such a beautiful man,” and Tito mumbled, “not compared to you.”

“Stop putting yourself down. Just stop.” He wriggled in closer and they lay together, letting their breathing and hearts calm down slowly. “You’re officially my boyfriend. You’re not allowed to put yourself down.”

His official boyfriend grinned goofily at him and they fell into a doze.

After a while Tito stirred as he felt something hard poking his back, and not in a good way. “So. We broke your sofa.”

“Oh. Yeah.” They giggled. “Now they’ll _have_ to get me a new one.”

***

The day after Maverick and Tito’s date marked a fortnight before the party, and Livio took a stroll towards Santi’s office as early as he could. He didn’t want to ask for help but he had no choice. He must either ask Santi or Shuhei Nakamoto, and the Catalan was preferable. If his precise Japanese colleague found out the terrible mistake Livio had made, he’d probably—well, Livio didn’t know what he’d do.

Passing the clothes store, Livio heard strange noises. Groans. Was someone ill? Concerned, he tried the handle but it was locked. Of course, he was the most senior boss of Repsol so he had keys for every door and was able to unlock this one.

He pushed past all the hanging clothes towards the sounds but stopped when he nearly reached them. They didn’t sound like pain anymore, but more like…He gulped, then peeked through some clothes to see two figures embracing on a bed of fabric. Both male, it seemed. Their groans and moans were definitely not illness and Livio stifled a gasp. He quickly reversed out of the cupboard and locked it again. It was none of his business if two guys were making out in secret.

But he wondered why they felt they had to keep it a secret. Back when he was young of course, if someone discovered he had boyfriends, he would have lost his job or been arrested, so he’d been very discreet, or just not had boyfriends. But these days, it was acceptable to be openly gay so why did these two feel they had to hide? He shrugged as he arrived at Santi’s office.

“Come in?” called Santi after his knock and Livio hesitated, then tiptoed through the door.

“Can I help you?”

“I—er—well—yes. I’ve made a terrible mistake.”

Santi raised an eyebrow.

“I thought Dorna had invited us to _their_ party. It seems they want _us_ to host the party, to prove to them we are worthy of their trust.” Livio twisted his hands behind his back.

“Oh! Er—well then—we—we need to get started with planning.” Santi gave a small smile. “You are an idiot, Livio.”

“I know. But I know you can help me.” Livio turned on his most charming smile, he knew his blue eyes twinkled when he did so, and Santi looked as if he liked it, because he smiled too.

“What should we tell Shuhei?”

“I dunno. I’ll think of something.”

“Okay. Right. I’ll help you then.” Santi stood up, his smock the perfect thing to wear in this ever-increasingly hot weather lately, as it kept him cool. “The first thing we need to do is look at the guest list, then hire caterers. Get some paper and a pen.”

“Yes boss,” said Livio.

***

“So, how are we going to handle this party?” asked Marc as he and Dani lay cuddled up together in the clothes store. “I don’t want to spend the whole evening pretending we’re just colleagues.” They’d used some of the old clothes and offcut materials to cushion the floor and it was like a nest. A love nest, because Santi had forced them to keep their relationship quiet. A love nest made of chiffon, lace, silk and leather.

“Er…I don’t know.” Dani stroked Marc’s tanned chest, making him wriggle in delight. “We could—er—show our faces at the beginning then sneak off to my dressing room? Santi will be so busy with Dorna and the others, he’ll probably forget to spy on us.”

“That sounds like a good idea. But come to my room instead.” Marc’s mind was full of plans.

Dani laughed. “I know that look. You’re plotting.”

“Me? No. Never.” He put on an innocent expression, then ruined it by letting his hand wander down Dani’s body and stroking his cock, which stirred a bit, even though it was thoroughly spent after an hour in the clothes store love nest.

***

“I thought we should have a Spanish theme as Dorna is a Spanish company,” said Livio. “But that’s surely been done many times and they will be expecting it. So, I thought maybe we should have an Italian theme? With Italian food and maybe Frank Sinatra style music?”

“Is this so you can please yourself and your Italian models?” Santi raised an eyebrow. Livio hadn’t changed since they first met years ago—he was always looking out for number one.

“Not necessarily. Everyone likes Italian food—Italy is renowned for its excellent cuisine. And everyone likes that Big Band sound of Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and the rest.”

“Whatever you say, boss.”

“Don’t say that. Give me your honest opinion.”

Santi shrugged. “It’s a good idea. A bit different to the usual thing Dorna will expect.”

“And I also thought, we could have one of those ice sculptures. Maybe a swan or the company logo. Yes! The Repsol logo in ice!” Livio jumped off his chair with excitement and his companion couldn’t help smiling.

“Don’t forget though, if the weather gets any hotter, the ice will melt. Or we’ll need fans to keep it cold.”

“You’re always so practical, Santi.” Livio beamed at him. “Maybe not the Repsol logo, what else could we have as the ice sculpture?”

Santi suppressed the desire to say _a huge cock_ and just said, “I’ll have to think about that.”

***

After lunch, Aleix knocked on the door of Maverick’s dressing room, and being Aleix, barged in without waiting to be invited.

“What’s happened here?” He pointed at the sofa, lying on its back with the pieces all falling apart.

“Oh—er—well—I was jumping on it and—it—er—broke,” said the young model.

“Really? Was Tito with you when it happened?” Aleix winked and nudged him.

“He might have been.”

“I see. You naughty boy. What did Nakamoto say when he saw it?”

“Nothing. He hasn’t seen it yet. I was going to ask him for a new one, but I don’t want him to see my room.”

“Oh? Why?”

“It’s just that—well—I don’t want him to know—er—well—”

“What is it?” Aleix’s face was full of concern and he put his arm round his friend.

“Okay. My dad threw me out of home when he knew I was dating Tito and—so—I’m going to live here now. And Tito will stay as often as he can. The broken sofa will make it difficult, but if the bosses know I want to live here, they’d—”

“Hold on, hold on. What?”

Maverick explained again, as it was a lot to take in.

“So, basically you need a new sofa bed?”

“Yes, but I’ve no way of getting it into the building without the managers finding out.”

“Well we can help—the other models and me. We can bring it up in the lift and carry it into your room out of hours when everyone’s gone home.”

“Oh! Oh th—thanks—you don’t have to, I—”

“I know I can get them to help. Even Iannone. I can sweet talk anyone.” Aleix beamed.

***

Livio, Santi and Shuhei discussed the colour scheme of the party endlessly, all having differing opinions. Well, Livio and Shuhei had opinions, Santi found himself in the role of peacekeeper. Livio wanted orange, gold and royal blue for the colours, whereas Shuhei lifted his hands in horror at this, suggesting orange, black and white. 

The two managers argued back and forth for a long while, til eventually Santi said:

“What about silver instead of gold? And white to tone it down, but keep it bright enough for a party?”

His companions thought about this for a while, then both seemed to like it, to Santi’s relief. He so often felt like a ping pong ball, being batted between the flamboyant Italian and their precise Japanese colleague. It was rather like looking at two stereotypes playing out in front of him. He wondered what it would be like if somehow Livio became subdued and Shuhei livened up a bit.

“What are you sniggering about?” demanded Livio, raising his eyebrows at him.

“Oh! Nothing. Now what will the decorations look like?”

The trio eventually decided that the courtyard in the centre of the O shaped building would be filled with round tables covered in Repsol orange cloths. The chairs would be white and the table decorations a mixture of white, silver and orange. There were plenty of green, large leaved plants around the sides of the building, to dilute the effect of so much orange.

Livio designed a glass vase to be filled with large, white and orange seashells, with silver painted twigs poking out of the top—one would be put on every table as statement pieces.

All the tables would be centred round a stage, where various musicians would perform, with a piano to accompany them.

“It will be very retro,” enthused Livio. “There’s no point being ultra-modern, I think a step back would be very impressive.”

“And retro can be classic too,” added Shuhei. “The black and white piano and of course the musicians will be in black and white evening wear.”

“What are the models going to wear?” asked Santi. “I mean, I’ve got Dani and Marc arranged. They will wear summer themed active wear, but with a touch of Repsol orange.”

“Or should they all be in evening wear?” Shuhei asked.

“No, I think just Dovi and Iannone should be in evening wear. The Active and Office wear models should stick to day wear,” said Livio.

“Very well. Aleix and Maverick can wear black and white then. Maybe with orange or silver accents. Yes, their pocket handkerchiefs and/or ties can be orange or silver.”

“What about the food?” asked Santi.

“Ah the food, my friend. I knew you’d ask about that.” Livio playfully poked the Catalan's ample stomach, earning him a glare. He hastily carried on. “We should have Italian food, like I said before. A medley of Mediterranean vegetables, cheese and meat for the starter. Things that everyone likes, such as cherry tomatoes, red onion, lettuce, asparagus, prosciutto, peppers, olives, mozzarella.”

Santi began to make copious notes.

“Then for the main course, chicken breast stuffed with ricotta and spinach or grilled aubergine with mozzarella and marinara sauce for vegetarians. Followed by a dessert of…”

“We’d better be careful with dessert,” interrupted Shuhei. “All the models are on special diets and worried about putting too much weight on.”

“Oh yes. How about a fruit salad—”

“—or maybe just put bowls of fruit on the tables? They would look nice too. We could have oranges to fit in with the Repsol theme.” He received a pat on the arm from Livio for this.

“Maybe tangerines instead because they are easier to eat, with grapes and bananas because they look so nice.”

“Yes! That is fantastic. We’re all ready to impress Dorna and move up a level!” Livio clinked his wine glass with those of his colleagues.

***

Aleix went to see his friends to ask them for help with Maverick’s sofa project. But neither Dani’s nor Marc’s dressing room was occupied, and he wandered around for a while, puzzled. Were they off on a shoot? Or in a meeting? He was sure they weren’t because it was the end of the day and they should be getting ready to go home.

Then he heard strange moaning noises coming from the storeroom in the corridor. Was someone ill? He opened the door cautiously but it was too dark to see anything so he waited, hoping his eyes would adjust.

“Ohh yeah…” sighed a voice. “Oh, don’t stop.”

Aleix felt a giggle bubbling up. _Is that Marc? I hope he’s with Dani! Why are they hiding?_ Unsure what to do, he hesitated until he heard:

“Ohhh…Dani!”

So, reassured that Marc wasn’t secretly with someone else, he quietly slipped out of the cupboard, trying to suppress his laughter. _Why are they making out in there and not in one of their dressing rooms? What the hell?_

So he went to see Dovi, hoping he wouldn’t find him in a compromising position too.

“Hello?” The slight Italian opened his dressing room door. “You look like someone’s tickling you.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I—well—I’ve got a proposition for you.”

“Oh yes?” Dovi’s eyebrows shot up.

“Not like that.” He told his friend the story of Maverick’s dad’s behaviour and the forthcoming sofa project.

“Of course I’ll help! Of course. The poor kid.” Before they could say more, someone knocked urgently on the door, and Marc and Dani barged in, half undressed.

“So sorry,” panted Dani. “We’re trying to escape Santi.”

Dovi and Aleix stared at them, although the Catalan wasn’t surprised judging by what he’d just witnessed in the store cupboard.

“What the fuck is going on?” demanded Dovi, feeling like he’d been hit by a succession of whirlwinds. He’d been trying to get his stuff together to go home, then Aleix had burst into his room, now Marc and Dani.

The two Active wear models poured out their story of Santi bullying them about their relationship and how they were trying to avoid him in working hours, but he’d come dangerously close to catching them this time. As they talked, Dani undid his wrongly buttoned shirt, then did it up properly again and Marc fastened his jeans.

Dovi felt somewhat frazzled by all these secrets bombarding him, but agreed to help them keep theirs too. Aleix agreed too, then distracted them with the story of how Maverick’s dad had treated him and the subsequent need for help with his sofa.

“He what?” asked Dani. “Of course we’ll help.” 

“Thrown out? Yes, count us in,” agreed Marc.

“Thanks, it’ll mean a lot to him,” smiled Aleix. “Now be careful you don’t get caught again.”

“We will,” they chorused.

“Now I’m going to ask Iannone for his help.”

“Iannone? Are you sure?” asked Dovi. “I don’t trust him.”

“I’ll give him a chance and we need his muscles, really.” The others nodded regretfully as they were all slightly built.

Aleix gritted his teeth and went to see the other Occasion wear model. He didn’t hold out much hope of Iannone understanding or giving support, he just hoped he could flatter him into helping them with the sofa.

“That is terrible,” said the proud Italian, however. “The poor boy. Even I have faced discrimination in my life, so I’ll help him out.”

“G—great! Th—thanks!” Aleix clapped him on the arm heartily and shook his hand. He went back to his dressing room thinking, _what a nice surprise! ___

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a very long chapter! Its got totally out of control!


	10. The Dorna Summer Party begins…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big occasion. Love is in the air I think...

Livio and Santi managed the task of preparing for the party without Shuhei even guessing the mistake. Whenever he got close to working it out, Santi would distract him with some arrangement, and Livio felt a surge of gratitude. It was like old times, when Santi had been his assistant back at the first fashion house they’d worked at. They’d had a lot of fun back then, but of course it had all gone wrong and now they were awkwardly working together at Repsol. No point going over the past though. Livio shut that door in his mind and focused on the present.

***

The evening of the party dawned as sweltering as the previous few days, and the air conditioning inside the Repsol building was on full power. Plenty of large parasols had been set up in the courtyard for the first part of the party, which would be in the daylight.

All the models spent hours primping and preening themselves. Maverick insisted that Tito get the same treatment as himself, so the lanky blond was allowed to share his boyfriend’s dresser for the evening.

“Don’t you all look gorgeous!” said Livio when they all emerged from their dressing rooms. He brought out his camera to take a photo—he didn’t like using phone cameras as he thought they took unclear pictures. “Everyone move closer together.” He was wearing a grey blue shirt which brought out the colour of his eyes, with silver grey trousers. The orange Repsol logo was embroidered onto the chest pocket of the shirt. 

The models all looked at each other admiringly—they all wore cooler outfits as the summer heat was at its peak. The Occasion wear guys were dressed as dramatically as usual—Iannone wore a silver sleeveless vest with long orange shorts. He posed in the centre of the group, and Marc and Maverick got the giggles thinking he looked like an upmarket lifeguard.

Dovi looked more traditional in a short sleeved white shirt and black shorts. He stood next to his colleague, not posing or showing off, just smiling shyly, so Aleix went to stand next to him. The taller model made a nice contrast as he wore a well fitted dark charcoal shirt with the orange Repsol logo on the top pocket. His shorts were also charcoal, giving him a very sleek appearance.

Maverick wore an almost identical outfit, but in navy blue. His shirt was well cut to show all his muscles, so Tito couldn’t take his eyes off his boyfriend. But luckily the feeling was mutual as the younger model was fixated by Tito’s cornflower blue shirt and pale yellow shorts. The shirt colour brought out the blue of his eyes and the yellow shorts somehow reflected the blond highlights in his hair. 

Lastly, the Active wear models looked more outdoorsy and rugged. Dani wore a very dark chocolate shirt with a textured finish that just made Marc want to stroke it and him, but he knew Santi wouldn’t be happy at that. Their boss was standing frowning at them, so Marc went to stand the opposite side of the group, next to Tito. He could admire Dani’s well-fitting creamy yellow shorts from there. Marc caught his boyfriend’s lustful glance and he posed in his all black shirt and shorts, which had a little texture but the main decoration was silver studs on the collar points and the top pocket edge.

“Say _mozzarella!_ ” said Livio, and the camera flashed. “Eccellente!”

“Now take a funny one!” said Marc excitedly.

“Okay. Everyone do something silly.”

Dani cradled his chin with his hand as if thinking hard, Marc gave a cheesy smile and thumbs up like he was the host of the party. Dovi folded his arms and raised an eyebrow, and Aleix took the hint and did the same, but stood so they were back to back, leaning against each other. Iannone, in the middle, stood in a bodybuilder pose while Maverick pouted with a kissy face and Tito put his hands either side of his face as if he was star struck looking at him.

The camera flashed, and they all burst out laughing. Just as they did so, the Dorna management staff arrived, who were a small group of middle aged and elderly men, to the disappointment of the Repsol models.

“Who’s that?” asked Tito of Aleix. He was looking at a balding man, surprisingly dressed in a blue suit embroidered with lavish peacock feathers at the lapels, cuffs and jacket trouser hems.

“That’s Carmelo Ezpeleta,” said the knowledgeable Catalan. “He’s the big boss, like Livio is at Repsol.”

On cue, Livio embraced Carmelo flamboyantly. He kissed Carmelo on both cheeks, while Shuhei and Santi made do with handshakes. They made a good contrast because Shuhei was wearing a classic white shirt with black stripes, and black trousers. Whereas Santi was dressed much more for summer in his orange, silk smock and black sandals with orange studs on, to fit the Repsol theme.

“So terribly hot, isn’t it Livio?” said Carmelo as his people greeted all the Repsol staff. He fanned himself with a peacock blue silk handkerchief.

“We’ll keep it nice and cool for the guests, don’t worry,” replied Livio, signalling Santi to check the air conditioning.

Some other models ambled in, looking round at the orange balloons, silver ribbons and white silk draped everywhere. They were much younger and prettier, so the Repsol models perked up and Iannone flexed his muscles to impress them.

“Who are these?” asked Tito.

“That’s—that’s—Valentino Rossi from Yamaha Moda,” squeaked Aleix, clutching Tito’s arm so violently he jumped. “He’s so famous. He’s won Model of the Year nine times and is hoping to win his tenth this year.”

Marc clutched Tito’s other arm. “Who’s that with him? Looks very young.”

“That’s his little brother, Luca, who’s about nineteen.”

“He’s my age! How handsome he is,” said Marc, clasping his hands. Dani coughed next to him. “But of course, not my type,” he continued quickly. “Just my brother’s type though, hm…”

“And these others coming in are: Jorge Lorenzo and Michele Pirro from Vogue Ducati,” continued Aleix, the font of all knowledge. These two wore black shirts and trousers, very minimalistic, but it suited them with Michele’s dark colouring and Jorge’s neat features.

Everyone made admiring noises, especially as Michele smiled at them goofily, looking charming, until the jealous Jorge pulled him away by the hand towards the courtyard, where the noise of talking and clinking glasses showed the party was getting started.

“And these are Alvaro Bautista and Franco Morbidelli from Suzuki-Homme,” continued Aleix. They made a good contrast because Alvaro was blond and blue eyed, smiling innocently, and Franco was dark and swarthy, smiling proudly.

“You should get a job as a fashion commentator,” said Dovi, laughing.

“I should. I will.” Aleix posed heroically.

“You could help me with my blog if you like?” asked Tito.

“I’d love to. You, me and Maverick would have a good laugh.”

Iannone smoothly glided towards Valentino Rossi, and the other Repsol models tutted and mumbled disapprovingly to each other.

“He’s always trying to get to know famous people,” said Marc scornfully, fanning himself with a piece of paper from Tito’s desk. “He’s a suck up, I hate those.”

***

“So,” said Livio to his Repsol employees after the main guests had passed their welcoming committee. “I expect you all to mingle with everyone and act professionally, in a welcoming and friendly manner. We want them to have a really great time and know we’re up to the Dorna standard.”

“Yes, Livio,” chorused everyone. Although Maverick and Tito were already giving each other secret signals meaning they’d be going back to their ‘home’ as soon as possible. 

Aleix noticed them eyeing each other and took his young colleague aside. “There will be lots of food to spare at this party,” he whispered in his ear. “You could really stock up your fridge.”

Maverick pulled Tito over to join the conversation.

“We can’t take too much at once though, someone’ll notice,” warned the blond receptionist. 

“Think of it as saving spare food which will only go off in the heat. You take some, we’ll bring the rest. I’ll tell the others.”

“You’re so kind, Aleix.” Tito had quite forgotten his jealousy of Maverick’s fellow Office wear model.

Dovi was shuffling nearer and heard the comments. “I can bring some too,” he whispered in Aleix’s ear, earning him a pat on the back.

***

Meanwhile, Santi was keeping a close eye on his Active wear models as they stood there, apparently ignoring each other.

“Did you hear what Livio said? I want you on your best behaviour. Speak to the Dorna representatives but also to the other models. You know them from other shows, so don’t be standoffish.”

“Yes of course, Santi,” said Marc innocently, making sure not to stand too close to Dani or hold his hand.

“And remember,” whispered the bearded Catalan, flapping his smock to get some air on the sultry night. “Don’t be tempted to restart your relationship, just because it’s a party.”

“No Santi,” they chorused, stifling giggles. What would he think if he knew how many times they’d nearly been caught out lately in cupboards? It wasn’t so much _restarting_ their relationship but _continuing._

“Good. You both look very smart.” Santi fussed around them, straightening their collars and smoothing their hair like an elderly aunt. 

“Yes, Santi,” they said together, their minds elsewhere. Marc was thinking of his secret plans, Dani was wondering what the secret plans were. He knew Marc was up to something—he had that look in his eye—and Dani didn’t know whether to be excited or nervous.

***

The Repsol models played their part admirably—for the first hour. They chatted to the Dorna management, flirted and joked with the other models, ate the plentiful, delicious food (and stored some in various containers for Maverick and Tito). Livio had decided to make the dinner into a buffet with the food placed on some tables for guests to pick at, then when one course had been finished, the next lot of dishes would be put in their place. It was just easier for guests to manage. It was hard, however, to hide the salads, meats and breads as none of the models wore jackets due to the heat, but Aleix hit on the idea of pretending to serve the food but whisking it away before actually giving it to the guests.

The singer began his performance. A sturdy man with twinkling blue eyes and thinning grey hair, he stood on the raised platform in the middle of the courtyard, surrounded by four musicians and the piano.

He cleared his throat, and began to sing:

_Birds flying high_  
_You know how I feel_  
_Sun in the sky_  
_You know how I feel_  
_Breeze driftin' on by_  
_You know how I feel_  
_It's a new dawn_  
_It's a new day_  
_It's a new life_  
_For me_  
_And I'm feeling good_  
_I'm feeling good_

The burst of trumpets and piano with the instrumental part brought a wave of clapping from the guests and everyone turned to look at the band. The older people like Carmelo and his associates were all nodding and smiling at the good choice of the song and lyrics. The talking stopped for a while as everyone listened to the music, but then the chatter rose again as everyone drank the wine, ate the food and admired the decorations. Especially the large ice sculpture, which had to be kept near reception as that was the coolest place due to the air conditioning.

Maverick and Tito were the first to slip away to their room, carrying serving dishes of food for their fridge—meats, cheeses, salad, and bread. They reached their room and locked the door with sighs of relief. Neither were fans of big groups of people, and they felt they’d done enough socialising tonight. Their broken sofa was awkward to sleep on, but the other models had donated their sofa cushions to the couple so they at least had some kind of bed, even if it was on the floor.

***

Of course, the shy couple weren’t the only ones trying to escape the party. Marc and Dani played the part of being sociable to the guests, then the younger man whispered in his boyfriend’s ear, “I’m going to my room, come along as soon as you can.” Before Dani could even ask any questions, he was gone.

So the little model waited for about ten minutes, then began to find his way past people to get to Marc’s room. He managed it by nipping from corner to corner. Being small had definite advantages as he could hide in small shadows and nooks and crannies the bigger models couldn’t hope to. He was nearly there, as he hid behind a display of the Occasion wear models’ clothes—Marc’s dressing room was only a short dash away from this. He took his opportunity when no one was passing, and dived for Marc’s door, knocked urgently, and it swung open.

“Hello.” Marc was wearing an overcoat, to Dani’s surprise, but once they were both inside with the door locked, he whisked it off to reveal he was only wearing a bowtie and black boxer shorts.

Dani almost fell over, he didn’t know whether to laugh or drool.

“What a nice costume,” he managed at last. “You look like a kinky waiter.”

“But of course, Señor.” Marc bowed deeply. “Allow me.” He gestured to the main part of the dressing room, where there were dozens of candles set round on every surface. He took a lighter from the dressing table and began lighting them while Dani watched.

Set off to one side was a square table, covered in a red cloth with white napkins and silver cutlery, with a very large candle in the middle. And of course, two chairs placed opposite each other. Dani’s eye’s widened and his mouth dropped open.

By the time he’d composed himself, Marc had finished lighting the candles and switched the artificial lights off. The room suddenly had a romantic and warm atmosphere. Luckily it also had a window to let in the night air, which was cooling at last.

“Are we having dinner?”

“Yes, away from all that rabble outside.” They could still hear the party noise but it wasn’t too intrusive and the songs were rather nice. “I hope you haven’t stuffed yourself with too much party food.”

They could still hear the singer as his microphone was hooked up to speakers all over the building.

_Fly me to the moon_  
_and let me play among the stars_  
_Let me see what spring is like on_  
_Jupiter and Mars_  
_In other words, hold my hand_  
_In other words, baby, kiss me_

Dani beamed. “This is just—it’s wonderful Marc!”

“You haven’t seen what I’ve got for dinner yet.” The younger model laughed nervously.

“I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” Dani couldn’t believe all his dreams were coming true—for so long he’d wanted Marc and now his affection was being returned!

“So, for the first course, I’ve got a mixed green salad.” Marc whisked a box out of the fridge. “Please sit down.”

He served the salad onto two plates which were on the dressing table in front of the vanity mirror, then put them onto the table with a flourish.

“This is amazing. Did you make it yourself?” Dani forked the green leaves, olives and tuna into his mouth, he hadn’t realised how hungry he was. He’d been so nervous—parties weren’t his thing, plus he’d been trying to hide his relationship with Marc from everyone, plus he’d been wondering what his boyfriend was up to—that he hadn’t eaten much of the buffet food.

“Well—er—okay, my mum helped me with all of it. Sorry. I’m not a cook.”

“Oh…don’t worry…neither am I.” Dani looked at Marc and giggled.

“What?”

“You’ve got sauce on your face.”

Marc grinned. “So? What are you going to do about it?”

Dani leant over the table and wiped the creamy drops off with his thumb, putting it in his mouth and sucking it off with a satisfied noise. He giggled at Marc’s expression—his eyebrows raised to his hairline and eyes wide. Then turned back innocently to his salad.

The next course was steak and three cheese pie, which Marc brought from a cool box and put in the microwave.

“Another gift from my mum. She likes you. She says you’re a good influence on me.”

The older model blushed. “She’s a nice lady. Very sensible.”

“She is.” He presented the pie with his usual flourish, cutting it into slices and putting two on Dani’s plate first. “Please eat.” He put more on his plate and started eating that.

The first mouthful of the pie melted in Dani’s mouth, and he couldn’t help groaning loudly. “Oh my god, this is just—it’s gorgeous!” He ate more, making more sounds of pleasure. Then he noticed Marc wasn’t eating, he was just sitting there gaping at him. He put a forkful of pie very slowly into his mouth, as sensually as he could, then snapped it in with a bite, which made his companion jump. “Why aren’t you eating?” he asked innocently.

“Oh! Yes. Er…yes.” Marc was so flustered he put his hand down suddenly on his pie, and some gravy spurted up, arced through the air and hit Dani on the cheek with a splat. For a second, they sat there in shock, then burst out laughing. It didn’t matter they were being so loud—no one could possibly hear them over the noise of the party.

_Fill my heart with song and let me sing for ever more_  
_You are all I long for_  
_All I worship and adore_  
_In other words, please be true_  
_In other words, I love you_

“Now we’re even!” giggled Marc. “I had sauce, now you’ve got gravy!”

“So how are you going to get me clean?” Dani waggled his eyebrows.

The younger model jumped up and lunged over the table at him, putting his hands behind Dani’s head and his mouth against his cheek, licking the gravy off with a wet tongue. In his enthusiasm, he knocked most of the plates, glasses and cutlery onto the floor and he pulled Dani towards him until they almost fell onto the table. Luckily the pie had escaped the devastation and Marc put his finger into it, then wiped the gravy down Dani’s neck and collarbone, towards his shirt opening, where his chest hair peeked out. They gazed into each other’s eyes, which were dark and full of lust, then Marc scooped Dani up and put him on the table.

“I think I shall have you for dinner instead,” he growled.

He laid Dani on the table, which luckily was a sturdy thing, and ripped open his shirt, then decorated him with gravy and bits of pie, and sauce from the salad, and even some of the wine. Starting at the neck, he licked all the food, very slowly, off the little model’s tanned and quivering skin.

“Ohhh, Marc! You’re such a tease,” whimpered his victim.

“Want me to stop?”

“No! No, don’t!”

Marc chuckled deeply and continued to run his tongue over the hot muscles, nibbling and sucking his nipples and lingering over his pecs, until Dani was clutching at his hair and digging his nails into his back. But the torturer didn’t relent, he just kept sliding more and more slowly down, from his victim’s chest to his abs. He then stopped, his mouth full of sauce.

Dani glared at him.

“Hm, something seems to be hitting me in the chin.” With his eyes, he indicated a large cock which had been there for some time, bobbing up and down, straining to get some kind of release. “What should I do with it?”

Dani glared even more at his devilish looking lover, whose eyes were so black now they looked like deep holes.

“It’s a wonderful Spanish sausage,” Marc said innocently, then suddenly dipped down and took it in his mouth, making its owner shriek and forget to breathe. He teased it with his tongue, then sucked on it, up and down, making Dani arch up so high that he nearly knocked them both off the table. He clawed at the table, he clawed at Marc’s hair, at Marc’s back, groaning and whimpering and panting, his mind filled with light and heat, he couldn’t think of anything but the hot mouth on his cock. He was so engrossed that the sudden force of his orgasm took him by surprise and he shuddered through it, only staying on the table because Marc was holding him down.

“Well. Fuck. Me…” he breathed after an eternity of coming down from the ceiling. “Fucking hell, Marc.”

His lover was now sitting on a chair, grinning, his bowtie torn off on the floor. “I hope that’s an invitation, cos I might explode otherwise.”

“Oh yes, yes, anything, anything. But maybe on the sofa?”

“Right.” Marc swept the now relaxed Dani off the table and almost threw him onto the sofa, then jumped on top of him like a tiger.

***

Aleix knocked on Maverick’s dressing room door and it opened slowly. 

“Yes?” said Maverick suspiciously, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

“I’ve brought you some supplies.”

“Oh! Thanks. I didn’t think you were serious when you offered.” He took the chicken wrapped in a napkin, the salad in a bowl and the bunch of grapes in another napkin. Plus a bottle of wine Aleix had sneaked in hidden in a bunch of flowers.

“You’re such a good friend.” Maverick stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

“Oh, well, you know.”

Tito’s head appeared over Maverick’s and he raised his eyebrows at Aleix.

“I better get back. Await reinforcements.” The tall Catalan gave an exaggerated wink and ambled off.

***

Back at the party, Livio was trying to make a good impression on the Dorna management. He discussed how their business was going, what new directions they wanted to take, how Repsol could fit in to their business plan. He felt he was getting hotter and hotter, even though the air was cooling as the night drew on. He felt he was working as hard as he could.

He’d also noticed how Santi and Shuhei were doing the same. He had two stalwart colleagues, he was so proud of them, particularly Santi. They’d both been shocked to find they were working together again after all these years and what had happened between them, but they were both grown men, and professional managers, so they’d forged an effective working relationship. But he was starting to think he’d lost something during all those years when Santi worked elsewhere.

He took another large swig of the wine, which was probably the reason he was now getting sentimental over Santi. 

_I know I stand in line until you think you have the time_  
_To spend an evening with me,_ crooned the singer.

_And if we go someplace to dance, I know that there's a chance_  
_You won't be leaving with me_  
_And afterwards we drop into a quiet little place and have a drink or two_  
_And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you"_

It was time to re-introduce the models to Carmelo as the icing on the cake, an added inspiration to Dorna.

“Would you like to get to know our models better?” Livio asked him, as they watched the younger people enjoying themselves. He gave the secret signal to Santi to round up the models, but was surprised when he only managed to find three. Santi ushered them towards the Dorna group, shrugging at Livio behind the models’ backs.

“Here they are,” said Livio, pretending it was normal to have so few. He gestured at Iannone, who inclined his head regally, Dovi, who smiled shyly and Aleix, who smiled more brightly.

“Ah yes,” said the elderly manager. “Three models. I thought you had more. I’m sure I saw more earlier. One was a tall blond, an unusual looking fellow, and a tiny dark haired one, quite a cutie.”

“Well…I expect they are socialising with the other guests.”

“Yes,” added Shuhei. “I saw Maverick in the reception area with some guests—” It was true—he had seen him, but several hours ago.

“And Marc and Dani were in the courtyard talking to the Vogue Ducati models,” lied Santi, having seen nothing of the sort. “They seem to get on well with them.”

“Well, I hope to meet your other models soon, I don’t see anyone from Active wear here.” He peered at the trio present, rather closely as he was a little short sighted. Aleix suppressed a giggle, which affected Dovi, who also felt a laugh rising.

“No doubt you will,” said Livio. “Now, would you like some of our excellent desserts?” He’d ordered some specially for the Dorna contingent, as he thought—judging by their portly shapes—they wouldn’t be watching their weight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to keep Luca and Frankie at the ages they are in 2017 or this wouldn’t work. Otherwise they’d be 14 and 16 because the others are all 5 years younger!?!
> 
> Also I've taken liberties with who is in which team, but why not.


	11. When The Moon Hits Your Eye, Like A Big Pizza Pie, That's Amore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some characters get completely carried away at the party. Don't blame me, I'm just the writer *whistles innocently*

The men from Dorna and the models from other fashion houses seemed to be enjoying the evening as the level of chatter was very high, and everyone’s plates were always full.

Shuhei stayed near the band, talking to the Vogue Ducati models, Jorge and Michele, who were both interested in the music. Jorge even sang one song, delighting the other guests.

_When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie_  
_That's amore_  
_When the world seems to shine like you've had too much wine_  
_That's amore_

Shuhei noticed how Jorge seemed to be singing to Michele, as he kept trying to catch his eye.

_Bells will ring ting-a-ling-a-ling, ting-a-ling-a-ling_  
_And you'll sing "Vita bella"_  
_Hearts will play tippy-tippy-tay, tippy-tippy-tay_  
_Like a gay tarantella_

At last Michele noticed Jorge was serenading him and gave his cute, goofy smile, making Jorge stumble over a few lyrics.

 _When the stars make you drool just like a pasta fazool_  
_That's amore_  
_When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet_  
_You're in love_

_How sweet,_ thought Shuhei. _Young love. It seems to be an epidemic round here judging by all our missing models._

Santi hovered near the buffet table—he was trying to diet but on a night like this, it seemed churlish to refuse such wonderful food. The younger models, Luca and Frankie, seemed to think the same, and were devouring the meat, bread, salad—well anything they could lay their hands on really. Santi remembered the days when he could do that without putting any weight on. No longer, though. He eyed his stomach, then pulled his loose-fitting smock out further. _People should judge me by my character, not my weight._

Livio stayed with the Dorna managers, hoping they were impressed with the evening. He certainly was—the food, the decorations, the music, the appearance of the guests were all wonderful. The event organisers he’d hired, had proven their worth by throwing a top level party, perfect to show Dorna how professional Repsol was.

The only blot on the landscape was his invisible models—Maverick, Marc, Dani and of course the efficient Repsol receptionist. He looked round for the others. Aleix and Dovi were sitting together at the side of the courtyard, eating the delicious food, but where was Iannone? Now he’d disappeared too. Livio shrugged in annoyance. 

“What excellent tiramisu.” Carmelo interrupted his musings. “Did you make it yourself?” He smiled.

Livio laughed loudly. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

Carmelo joined in laughing. “And I had some of the Neapolitan honey balls and ricotta cookies. Very easy to eat.”

“That was the idea. We wanted to serve finger foods that people can pick up, instead of being tied to formal places at tables.” He didn’t tell the Dorna manager that the rich foods had only been made for Dorna and not the general guests—they were offered simpler fare.

“I’m very impressed with your party, Livio. But I’d have liked to have talked to more of your models.”

Livio laughed again, nervously this time. “I’m sure they’ll turn up later, they’re probably just mingling.”

Santi looked over at that point to see what he thought was Livio and Carmelo sharing a joke and his heart sank. Again, Livio was sucking up to people he thought could further his career. So he turned back to the food and the charming Luca and Frankie, thinking, how nice it would have been to have had his own sons, but it was a bit late to start now.

***

“It’s mysterious how you, me and Iannone are the only senior models around to meet Dorna,” said Dovi later, sipping his brightly coloured cocktail. He and Aleix were sitting at the edge of the courtyard, watching the party from a distance, and within reach of the cool breeze coming from the air conditioning in the reception area.

“No it isn’t.” Aleix sniggered. “Tito and Mav are fucking in one room, Marc and Dani are fucking in another.”

Dovi tutted, and rolled his eyes. “How crude.”

“It’s true, though. They’re lucky, they’ve escaped all this stuff—I hate having to crawl to people and act fake to get jobs. But…I wouldn’t like to be those four tomorrow when Livio speaks to them. He’s lucky you and Iannone are available. He’d look a right jerk if his own models were too busy to speak to Dorna.” He threw a crisp in the air and caught it in his mouth with a snap.

 _Come fly with me, let's fly let's fly away,_ crooned the singer.  
_If you can use some exotic booze_  
_There's a bar in far Bombay_  
_Come fly with me, let's fly let's fly away_

“How is Mav anyway?” asked Dovi, knowing he was Aleix’s best friend. “He’s okay living in his room?”

“Shh! It’s meant to be a secret.” He shrugged. “He’s okay I guess. Tito’s with him nearly all the time so he’s not lonely.”

“Aww…aren’t they sweet. Such a sweet couple.”

“You’re quite soppy really, aren’t you?”

“I suppose so. I like happy endings.”

Aleix hadn’t noticed before what big brown eyes Dovi had. Rather like a puppy’s eyes. Aleix liked puppies.

“You’re alright about Marc and Dani? I know you used to like Dani.”

“Yeah, well. I’ve got—er—other things going on in life. I can’t waste time pining over him.”

“Oh? Some hot guy in your bed every night? Tell me more…”

“Not like that. I’m just—hey! What’s going on over there?” Dovi paused and pointed to Iannone lying on the sofa in reception surrounded by the younger models. They were feeding him grapes, and he obviously loved all the attention. He looked like a Roman emperor surrounded by his slaves, who were giggling and waving their glasses around, while he demanded more grapes and more attention every minute.

“He’s got them all running round him, he’s like a cult leader.”

“He’s something like a cult.” Dovi giggled, then hiccupped, which made Aleix laugh. “But how come that jerk gets all the attention? And gets fed grapes? I like grapes. Why don’t I get grapes?”

“I’ll feed you grapes if you like?” said Aleix, heroically.

They were still giggling.

“How will you get the grapes from them, though?”

“Watch and learn from the master.” He smirked, then swaggered off towards the flamboyant group.

_Weather-wise it's such a lovely day_  
_Just say the words, and we'll beat the birds_  
_Down to Acapulco Bay_  
_It's perfect, for a flying honeymoon - they say_  
_Come fly with me, let's fly let's fly away_

The younger guys smiled and raised their glasses to the tall Catalan, but Iannone frowned. Aleix glanced towards the door, then gasped theatrically. “Oh my god! Is that—is that—Lady Gaga? I didn’t know she was coming! She’s heading for the auditorium!”

The group of young models shrieked and ran towards the door, clutching at each other and falling over to see the guest.

As quick as lightning, the intruder grabbed one bunch of white grapes and one black, then staggered back to his partner in crime.

“Oi!” shouted Iannone, turning back from the search for Lady Gaga first. “My grapes! Give them back!”

But he was far too late. The two thieves had hurried off to Aleix’s dressing room for some private grape feeding.

***

They staggered through the door of the room, having escaped Iannone’s retribution as he and his minions were too drunk to be bothered chasing them.

“I’ll be the Roman emperor,” said Dovi, throwing himself with a crash onto the blue sofa. “Feed me grapes, slave boy.”

“Of course, master, anything you say, whatever you want.” Aleix’s voice was full of laughter as he shuffled on his knees towards the sprawling figure. “Open wide.” He held the bunch of grapes up over the emperor’s mouth but kept moving them higher as he snapped at the fruit like hungry animal.

“You’re such a tease.” Dovi was laughing now. “You better feed them to me before Iannone comes looking for them.”

“Okay.” Aleix lowered the grapes so they were nearly all in his companion’s mouth, nearly choking him.

“You are just so bad,” spluttered the Italian once he’d eaten some grapes and pushed the others away. “How should I punish you? Slave boys deserve to be punished.”

“I can think of _ways._ ”

“For one thing, Roman slaves should take off their t-shirts.”

“Roman slaves didn’t wear t-shirts.” Aleix moved just out of the way of Dovi’s slapping hand. “They wore togas or loincloths.”

“Don’t talk back to me! How dare you!” He pretended to whip at his slave, which only made him laugh more. “Take it off!”

Aleix pranced around, slowly peeling up his t-shirt to reveal a perfect six-pack, an all-muscle front with no fat or flab, skin neither burnt nor pale but a nice medium tan. Dovi’s mouth fell open and his eyes nearly popped out of his head at the sight. When the t-shirt had finally been taken off and twirled away, they stared at each other.

“Still going to punish me?” The shirtless one posed like a body builder, thoroughly showing off.

The emperor’s mouth opened and shut a few times, but he eventually managed to say, “Yes. I’m feeling very cold, you need to warm me up.” He pretended to shiver—the night was still warm but had become considerably cooler now darkness had fallen.

“Certainly, master.” The slave shuffled over. “Move over.” He wriggled onto the sofa. 

“What a hot body, just what I need.” Dovi pretended to warm his hands on it.

Aleix threw his arm round the Italian and hugged him, his other arm trapped between them. “I’ll keep you nice and warm.”

Dovi relaxed for a moment, then screwed up all his courage and kissed Aleix on the lips, for as long as he dared. His mouth was soft and warm, just right, and they got so carried away they rolled off the sofa and fell onto the floor with a thud.

They could hear the singer in the other room, crooning:

_I get no kick from champagne_  
_Mere alcohol doesn't thrill me at all_  
_So tell me why should it be true_  
_That I get a kick out of you?_

“I thought you were shy and reserved,” said Aleix, his hair falling over his face as he supported himself on his elbows. 

“But I’m also Italian, remember.”

They gazed at each other for a moment, then kissed again, their tongues twining, Aleix pressing him down into the carpet.

When they paused for breath, hearts pounding, Dovi smiled sweetly, then put his knee between Aleix’s legs and rolled him over onto his back, clouting some furniture with his leg in the process.

“Ooh,” Aleix said, settling beneath him. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Dovi chuckled naughtily.

They became aware of a rattling sound, then something heavy fell on Dovi’s back and covered him in cold liquid.

“Arghhh! What’s that?” he screeched. Then a strong, familiar smell overwhelmed him.

“Oh. Sorry. That’s my flask of coffee,” mumbled Aleix sheepishly. “Must have left it here last night.” 

Dovi moved off him. “Ugh! It’s all in my hair and down my back. Talk about a passion killer.”

“We can wash it off in my bathroom, don’t worry.” All the dressing rooms had a bathroom area with a tiny shower, sink and toilet, because the models often got hot and sweaty during shoots. And obviously they didn’t want to get the clothes dirty, so everyone was always showering.

Dovi stood up slowly. “Okay. But Livio will be furious if they’re ruined. He told me specially not to spoil this white shirt and I don’t want to lose my job.” He looked so sad that Aleix wanted to hug him but he didn’t want to make the stained clothes worse.

“Come on, we can save them. It’ll wash out.” Aleix stood up too, cursing himself for ruining everything.

***

Shuhei knocked firmly on the door of Maverick’s room. He was not in the mood to be messed around by his models.

“Maverick?” he hissed after waiting too long for an answer. “You need to come out, right now!” Some models from other fashion houses sauntered past and the manager quickly smiled at them, hiding his anger.

Eventually, a flustered Maverick opened the door a little. “Oh, hello Mr Nakamoto. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“No! You’ll be out now. The Dorna representatives are shocked that I only have one of my models with me and you’re making Repsol look foolish. You’ll come out now to speak to them.”

“O-okay, sir.”

“And is Tito with you? He should be socialising with our guests too. He is the first person that visitors see when they come to Repsol so should be making himself available to chat.”

“Oh, right, yes, he is. I understand. We’ll—er—we’ll be out in a second.”

“See that you are.” Shuhei bit his lip as he turned away. It wasn’t like his younger model to be absent or late. And come to that, he’d looked a bit dishevelled lately, which was doubly rare for the usually dapper young man. He hoped Maverick wasn’t in any trouble. He was very, very young for a model at seventeen and Repsol had taken a chance on hiring him—maybe he couldn’t handle the pressure? Shuhei trudged back to the courtyard, feeling worried. 

***

Dovi had whisked off his coffee splattered shirt and shorts, put them in the sink and been running water over them for ten minutes now. _Surely this will work. I can’t afford to lose my job over this! Too many people depend on me!_

The music from the party trickled into the room:

 _It don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing_  
_(Doo wah, doo wah, doo wah, doo wah)_  
_(Doo wah, doo wah, doo wah, doo wah)_  
_It don't mean a thing, all you got to do is sing_  
_(Doo wah, doo wah, doo wah, doo wah)_  
_(Doo wah, doo wah, doo wah, doo wah)_

But then the stain started to look like it was dissolving. “I think it’s working,” he said after a while, full of relief. “Where can I dry them?” He got no answer, so turned to see Aleix eyeing him up and down, his eyes almost popping out of his head.

For a minute, Dovi hesitated, feeling small and thin compared to the taller man, but when he saw the delight and desire in Aleix’s eyes, he blushed and relaxed.

“I also need to wash my hair now.” He smiled shyly.

Aleix just pointed at the shower. “Do you want to—er—shall I—”

“I want some help, yeah.”

They got into the shower, Dovi still had his boxer shorts on, Aleix his formal shorts, both a bit unsure of themselves, and wobbly due to the wine they’d drunk.

But when they shut the shower door, Dovi looked up into Aleix’s eyes and all uncertainty faded away. They kissed as they had before—messily, teeth catching, tongues delving deeply—but this time it was better because their naked chests pressed against each other and it was only when they heard the singer from the party broadcasting on the speakers that they realised they’d forgotten to turn on the shower.

 _It makes no diff'rence if it's sweet or it's hot_  
_Just give that rhythm ev'rything you got_  
_Oh, it don't mean a thing if it ain't got that swing_  
_(Doo wah, doo wah, doo wah, doo wah)_  
_(Doo wah, doo wah, doo wah, doo wah)_

Giggling, they pulled the lever and the warm water sprayed down, trickling over them and making them stick together even more. Aleix was leaning against the wall, holding Dovi against him. There wasn’t much room to manoeuvre, but there was no danger of either slipping as Aleix was like a rock, in many places.

Aleix wriggled out of his drenched shorts which were, for some reason, rather tight now, and his wet boxers conveniently slid off too, leaving him exposed. His tanned muscles were complemented by his hard cock, which bobbed towards Dovi invitingly, in a kind of _look at me, I’m over here,_ type of way. The Italian was transfixed, staring at it so obviously that Aleix giggled.

“I think you’ve got one the same.”

“Me? Oh! Yes.” Dovi ripped off his own boxers so hastily they tore, and his own cock sprang out, stiff as a post.

The two models gazed at each other for a millisecond, then leapt into each other’s arms, Aleix gasping as his back hit the slippery tiled wall. Every inch of his body was pressed against Dovi’s, especially his groin. He felt a hand round his cock, pressing it against the other, and groaned. 

“I’ve got you.” Dovi stroked his hand up and down, clinging to Aleix with the other, who in turn was holding him with one hand and the top of the shower partition with the other. They kissed clumsily, biting at each other’s lips because their focus was lower down, and the warm water cascading down their tanned bodies added to the heat as their cocks pressed and pushed together. They had to stop kissing to catch their breath and forgot to think, groaning against each other, just a mess of feeling and pleasure. 

Aleix gave in first and hot cream spurted out everywhere, hitting their stomachs, chests, even faces. He shuddered and swayed a little, but kept upright, supporting Dovi when he came, jolting and gasping against Aleix’s shoulder. They stood there for a while, waiting for their breathing and heartbeats to calm down, the water still streaming down from the shower, washing the evidence of their passion away.

After a while, Aleix said, “Oh. I was supposed to wash your hair, wasn’t I?” and they burst into breathless giggles, the music flowing over them…

_Strangers in the night_  
_Exchanging glances_  
_Wondering in the night_  
_What were the chances_  
_We'd be sharing love_  
_Before the night was through?_

_Something in your eyes_  
_Was so inviting_  
_Something in your smile_  
_Was so exciting_  
_Something in my heart told me I must have you_

***

“What a lovely party,” said Carmelo as he and his assistants milled round Livio and his assistants, all standing in reception ready to say their goodbyes.

Livio looked round for his models. None were to be seen. Even Aleix and Dovi had gone missing. This party should be known as _the mystery of the disappearing models._

The other Dorna managers shook Livio’s hand—they were all quite unsteady on their feet, so that was a good thing, and also they were all talking at once. Livio hoped these two details meant they’d all had a good time. A babble of comments rose around him:

“Really enjoyed it.”

“Fantastic evening.”

“Great music and food.”

So many people talking at once was confusing and Livio just nodded and smiled, shaking the hands of anyone offering them.

The singer was performing his last song of the evening.

_Summertime, and the livin' is easy_  
_Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high_  
_Oh, your daddy's rich and your ma is good-lookin'_  
_So hush little baby, Don't you cry_

_One of these mornings you're gonna rise up singing_  
_And you'll spread your wings and you'll take to the sky_  
_But 'til that morning, there ain't nothin' can harm you_  
_With Daddy and Mammy standin' by_

The non Repsol models wandered towards the farewell party of Livio, Santi and Shuhei.

“Thank you so much,” said the young, polite Luca, shaking hands with Livio. “Not sure where my brother is but I’m sure he’ll come and thank you soon.”

“You’ve got a great place,” said Alvaro. “Any vacancies, let me know.” He winked.

Frankie, Jorge and Michele laughed and patted him and everyone else on the back. They were all tipsy too and happily chatting and laughing.

“Ah, here’s my brother,” said Luca.

“Here’s Iannone,” said Santi.

The Yamaha Moda model and the Repsol model ambled up arm in arm, both grinning. Everyone stared at them.

“Did you enjoy the evening?” asked Carmelo.

“Oh yes,” they said simultaneously. Luca was looking suspiciously from his brother to Iannone, then he whispered something to Frankie, who giggled.

“Very nice to see you, Mr Rossi,” said Livio, shaking his hand. “We’re honoured that such a well decorated model could join us.”

“It was a pleasure,” said Valentino, inclining his head. He moved towards the front door with his brother, then looked back and winked at Iannone.

Livio, Santi and Shuhei relaxed after the Dorna group and the visiting models had left. 

“I think that went well,” said Santi, looking sideways at Livio.

“Of course it did!” he replied.

“It was magnificent!” said Shuhei. “I must go and see—er—” He hastened off, intending to check on Maverick.

“So Santi, it’s mainly thanks to you that the party went so well,” said Livio, smiling at him.

“Oh—well—er—no, it was all of us.”

“Nonsense! You got me and Shuhei to agree, you’re always diplomatic.” He looked into Santi’s eyes, put his hand on his cheek, and—

Someone tapped Livio on the shoulder and he leapt away from Santi.

“I’ve been offered some work by Yamaha Moda,” said Iannone. “Can we talk about it tomorrow?”

“Oh yes—yes of course—er—see you tomorrow,” stammered his boss. Santi walked off towards his office.

***

Dovi and Aleix were lying on the sofa, still naked as they were rather hot from the shower and other activities. They lay happily together, legs and arms entangled.

“Well. I didn’t think grapes would have such an effect,” said Aleix, stroking Dovi’s sparse, dark chest hair.

“We better be careful if we eat them for lunch.” Dovi grinned, which was a rare and welcome sight.

Someone knocked on the door. “We’re closing the building now, anyone in there? Time to go home.”

“Okay, thanks,” called Aleix, as it was his room.

“What are we going to wear?” Their clothes were strewn around the place, most of them wet and crumpled.

“I’ve got some things.” Aleix eased himself off the sofa and staggered to the wardrobe. “Here.” He threw out a t-shirt and board shorts. “They’ll fit you near enough.”

Both guys pulled on their clothes, still looking at each other admiringly, then went out of the door in no hurry. Everyone else had left, there were just a few night shift cleaners tackling the huge mess of the party.

“See you tomorrow?” said Dovi, trying not to appear too eager.

“You bet!” said Aleix, who didn’t care how he appeared. He kissed his lover on the lips, not concerned that the cleaners were gawping at them as it became a snog.

The couple regretfully parted at the front door, and the party night was over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we need to see this picture of Aleix here. Really, what is he doing? ahaha
> 
> https://twitter.com/AleixEspargaro/status/879770854292418560


	12. And Then I Go And Spoil It All By Saying Something Stupid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fun of the party, everyone has meltdowns. Drama and temperamental models and managers at the Repsol House of Fashion.

Tito sat at his reception desk the day after the party. He felt tired due to all the excitement last night—hardly sleeping, drinking too much, and the uncomfortable sofa cushions. All the other models had lent their sofa cushions to him and Maverick, which meant they slept on the floor on a mass of them. But the cushions kept moving apart and leading to one or other of their occupants finding part of himself touching the cold tiled floor. 

It didn’t seem to affect Maverick, he seemed to be able to sleep anywhere, but sleep hadn’t come easily last night for Tito, even after the too short hours he’d spent hidden away with Maverick in their room torturing each other deliciously. But even that had been interrupted by Mr Nakamoto’s demands that they go out and socialise, which they’d ignored.

He couldn’t wait til they bought a new sofa-bed. But how would they afford it? Tito’s wages weren’t as high as Maverick’s but he didn’t want to rely on his younger boyfriend to bail him out. He had to save up to pay half of the new furniture, but that would take a while and was his long, angular back able to cope with all those nights sleeping on constantly moving cushions?

So Tito was definitely not feeling full of the joys of spring. Or summer. Especially as the heat of the day was already building to mugginess. He was so busy brooding over everything that he didn’t notice a visitor waiting by his desk until the man coughed.

“Oh! Sorry! Can I help you?” 

The visitor wore his dark hair slicked back, and black lensed sunglasses. “I’m here to see Maverick Viñales,” he said.

He seemed familiar somehow, but Tito’s dehydrated, sleep deprived brain couldn’t place him. He looked up Maverick’s diary to see he had no appointments for that morning.

“What name is it, sir?”

The man leant over the desk and raised his sunglasses. “Isaac Viñales. This is urgent, Tito. I must speak to my cousin.”

Tito leant back so violently he nearly tipped his chair backwards. _What the hell is he doing here after what happened in the restaurant?_

“Please Tito, please. I’ve got important information. It concerns you too but I must tell Mav first.” 

Isaac’s brown eyes were so like his cousin’s that Tito’s kind heart relented. _What harm could it do? It isn’t like Maverick’s dad is actually there this time. Or is he?_

“So Isaac, is Maverick’s dad is right behind you, ready to cause trouble like in the restaurant? That won’t go down well here—if you think the restaurant manager was bad, wait til you see Maverick’s boss. He’s really strict about—”

“Shh, I know. Please, Tito. I want to make up for that restaurant stuff, I’m sorry, please.” He chewed his lip and wrung his hands.

Tito called Maverick’s phone and explained the situation. His boyfriend’s “WHAT??” was so loud he had to hold the phone away from his ear.

Within a few seconds, Maverick came marching into reception.

“What do you want?” he barked at his cousin. “Can’t believe you’ve come here after what you did!”

“Mav, shh! Please, I’m sorry, but you need to know something important!”

“Yeah right! Get lost Isaac! You’re a—”

“Exactly what is going on here?” asked a cold voice. Shuhei Nakamoto stood watching the scene with raised eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry, sir, my cousin’s barged in here, he—”

“Perhaps you’d better talk to him in a meeting room and not reception?” Shuhei hurried over to look at the room-booking calendar and nodded. “Go into the Versace room. You’ve got half an hour.”

Maverick bustled his cousin into the room and shut the door. Tito stared after them, wondering what the hell was going on.

After a slow quarter of an hour, the Viñales cousins re-emerged, both looking worried. Mr Nakamoto had long gone but all Tito wanted to do was comfort his white-faced boyfriend.

“Come in here with us Tito,” whispered Maverick, so the tall blond obeyed him.

In the room—humid and airless, which didn’t help—Maverick blurted, “my dad has gone to the police telling them you’ve kidnapped me and are holding me here as a minor, because I’m under eighteen.”

Tito laughed in shock, then abruptly stopped as both cousins were staring at him.

“But—I—I’m not holding you. _You_ asked _me_ to stay with you, remember?”

“I know, I know.” Maverick hugged him. “But legally I’m a minor.”

“Even though you’re over the age of consent, thank god,” interrupted Isaac.

“Yes, but you know what Dad’s like.” Maverick stroked Tito’s arm. “He’ll do anything to get what he wants. Isaac says he’s been to the police today so he rushed here to tell us.”

“Th—thanks Isaac,” stuttered Tito.

“It’s nothing. What are you going to do? Uncle said it was illegal for you two to live here with no adult supervision, it’s like you’re hiding from the law and he wants Maverick back home.”

“But if I go home, I can’t see Tito.” The young model’s jaw was set.

“But if you don’t, Uncle wants the police to charge him with kidnap and—and—” Isaac faltered.

“And what?” asked Tito, his stomach beginning to churn. He wished they could leave the stuffy room, the heat made the situation feel worse somehow.

“S—sexual a—assault. He says you seduced his young son and you are keeping him away from his family.”

“What the fuck, Isaac? You didn’t tell me that just now!” Maverick pushed him in the back. “You’re making this up!”

“I’m not, I swear! It wasn’t fair to tell you and not Tito so I waited til he got here. I swear Mav, you must believe me!” Isaac was blinking back tears.

Tito stood there in shock. _Kidnap? Assaulting a minor? I can’t afford a lawyer, but he’s right, it looks suspicious with me and Mav living in the office. If I get a criminal record, my whole life’s ruined. My dad’s life, my brother’s life too. What are we going to do?_

Just then someone knocked and opened the door without waiting. Shuhei Nakamoto peered round it.

“The next meeting is due now, guys. Can you vacate the room?”

***

Aleix bounced through the front door of Repsol. Various models were lounging around in reception, all worse the wear from the party last night. But Aleix wasn’t. He hadn’t slept well, partly because of the humid night air, partly because of the excitement of the party but mainly because he’d been fantasising about having Dovi as a boyfriend. He’d always thought he was the nicest of the models, but their liaison yesterday had changed that to thinking he was the boyfriend he wanted.

“You look very chirpy,” said Iannone, with his usual sneer and waft of spicy aftershave. “You owe me some grapes.”

“No I don’t. They were for everyone, not just you.” Aleix pushed past him. He knew he shouldn’t appear too eager but he wanted to sneak into Dovi’s room and surprise him. He’d never been one to hold back, so he gave into his wishes and pushed at the door of Dovi’s dressing room. It was open, so he tiptoed in, then heard his lover’s voice. Was there someone else there? He waited, listening.

“I’m so looking forward to seeing you on Saturday, darling, my angel.”

Aleix hesitated. _He must be on the phone. But who to?_

“We’ll have so much fun, I love you, darling. I’ve missed you so much. See you soon.” Then lots of kissy noises.

_What the hell? He loves someone? But who? What? His heart sank. It can’t be his mum or dad, or a sibling, he wouldn’t be all lovey dovey to them. Or maybe a friend? A really close friend. Or is it…another lover?_

Needing time to think, Aleix tiptoed out again and hurried to his room. The heat of the morning made him feel more upset somehow as it just reminded him of the fun of the party.

“Aleix? What’s the matter?” asked Maverick as his best friend breezed past. He’d hoped to talk to him about what Isaac had said but it would have to be later.

The tall Catalan stormed into his room and shut the door with a bang.

The words echoed through his mind. _“I’m so looking forward to seeing you on Saturday, darling, my angel. We’ll have so much fun, I love you so much. See you soon. Kiss kiss kiss kiss.”_

Over and over. _“I love you so much. Kiss kiss kiss kiss.”_

So is that Dovi’s…boyfriend? Or even worse, a girlfriend?

Aleix flung himself down on the sofa, thinking that last night he’d been naked with him right there. Try as he might, he couldn’t think of anyone else, apart from a lover, that Dovi would be so cute and affectionate with on the phone.

_So, if he’s got a boyfriend, what was I last night? Some one-off? When I was thinking it was the beginning of something? I’ve known him for two years and always thought he was a nice guy, he never has a stream of boyfriends like Iannone does, or even how Marc used to before Dani. Maybe I was just someone to make his boyfriend jealous. Maybe they had a row and he told him about me and said he could have anyone and so the boyfriend came crawling back._

Aleix hadn’t felt so angry and sad for a long time. He wondered if he was overreacting, but those words, _“I love you so much. Kiss kiss kiss kiss,”_ just kept repeating in his head.

 _I won’t talk to him again. I won’t be used like that. It’s happened too many times—some guy’s just broken my heart like that._ He set his jaw, determined not to make a fool of himself by chasing after someone who played around.

***

Dovi put the phone in his pocket happily and went to finish his coffee. Last night had been difficult at first being surrounded by so many people but the end of it—the climax, he laughed to himself—had been better than he’d ever hoped or foreseen. He’d always liked Aleix but not seen him as a boyfriend type until yesterday. _Maybe he’s different to the other guys I’ve met. Maybe he won’t be scared by my situation and run off like a jerk._

When he walked out of his dressing room into the heat of the corridor, he wandered about aimlessly, too shy to chase after Aleix like some love-struck teenager, then had the idea to go and chat to Tito at reception. He was a little worried about Tito and Maverick. It wasn’t ideal for the youngest model to live at his workplace because of his parents’ attitude, but all the others could do was support him.

Dovi was pleased to see Aleix already at the reception desk chatting to Tito, so he strolled towards them. Tito said, “hi, Dovi, are you okay after last night? We’re all hung over.” He did look pale and tired.

But before the Italian could say anything to Aleix, he breezed off without looking at him. 

Dovi stared after him. _Oh well, maybe he didn’t see me. Or he’s busy or got an appointment._

“I’m okay, a bit hung over too,” he said to Tito.

“Like everyone else.” The blond smiled weakly and looked away.

“You okay apart from that?”

The tall receptionist’s bottom lip wobbled and Dovi stared in horror. “What’s the matter?”

“I—I can’t tell you,” he faltered. “Sorry.”

“Well—er—that’s okay, but—I’m here if you want to talk about it.” Dovi wondered if everything was okay between Tito and Maverick. Maybe they’d had a row at the party. Or maybe they’d been told off for hiding in their room? Dovi knew Livio was fuming about the models not talking much to the visitors from Dorna, and hoped these two hadn’t taken the brunt of his anger.

“Is Maverick okay? Still alright with the—er—the living situation?”

“Oh, yeah, nothing’s wrong with him. It’s just—” Tito bit his lip, looking anguished, then the phone rang. “I’m sorry, I have to get on with my work.”

So Dovi patted his hand and ambled off, wondering what on earth had happened to make the usually cheerful receptionist look so sad.

***

“So Maverick, what was the problem earlier?” said Shuhei, as he’d arrived at his model’s dressing room and invited himself in. He looked around at the stacked cushions on the floor, the broken sofa and the evidence of meals eaten at the dressing table. “This place looks rather a mess, what’s happened?”

Maverick tried to avoid his eyes but couldn’t. He mumbled something but his manager interrupted.

“Are you living here? It looks like it. Please tell me, I need to know what’s happening.”

“Yes.” His voice was low. “I—I fell out with my parents so I moved in here.”

Shuhei looked pointedly at the two cups and plates on the side, and wrinkled his nose up at the distinct scent caused by two active young men living in a small, badly ventilated room together. “Does Tito live here too?”

“He stays most nights, yes. He—he doesn’t want me to be—lonely.” The young model glanced up at his boss.

Shuhei put aside the questions about security and the legal aspect of people living in the office permanently—he could deal with those later. Right now, his priority was his employee, who was easily young enough to be his son.

“What do your parents think? Do they know you two live here?”

“Yes, but they—they don’t like it. They—they want Tito arrested—well, my dad does. He’s wrong! He says Tito’s corrupting me and wants him sent to jail! It’s not true! He’s the nicest guy! My dad is a fuc—I mean a—an idiot! I don’t know what to do, I just can’t let them—”

“Shh—shh—slow down! So they don’t like you having Tito as a boyfriend?”

“No. They don’t like me having a boyfriend, but that’s their problem! That’s how I am and how it is! They’ll just have to get used to it! They—”

“And they think he’s corrupting you? And want to start legal proceedings against him?”

“Yes. It's not like that at all! There’s no corrupting going on! We’re just—you know—a couple!”

“I see. It's a difficult situation, yes. But I’m sure it can be sorted out.”

“I don’t see how! There’s nothing I can do! Tito’s done nothing wrong, he—”

Shuhei put his arm round him and they sat down on the remnants of the sofa. “Do you want me to speak to your parents? They can’t treat you like this. Or Tito.”

Maverick looked at him with big eyes. “Can you make them see sense?”

“I think I can. I’m sure we can work it out.” The Office-wear manager was already thinking of a plan to rescue the situation.

***

Later in the day, after doing a shoot with Iannone and Livio, Dovi went to the Repsol coffee bar for lunch. It was too hot to have lunch outside and the bar was nice and shaded. _Maybe I can have lunch with Aleix. Maybe we could have dinner tonight or tomorrow, or sometime._ He sat by the open window, looking out at the sun, blue sky and waving trees. 

Aleix’s voice moved closer, talking to someone, so Dovi turned to look at him. He raised a hand to wave, but Aleix didn’t seem to see him and walked past with Maverick, who looked with confusion at Dovi and back to Aleix, but was hustled past to a table in the far corner.

Dovi felt a sense of unease. That was the second time today that Aleix ‘hadn’t seen him.’ If he did it again, that meant something, surely.

Maverick and Aleix sat together at a small table, and Dovi kept glancing at them. Maverick was obviously telling Aleix something shocking because the taller model’s jaw dropped a few times and he covered his mouth with his hand too. Maverick looked rather tearful and Dovi wondered what on earth was going on. Earlier, Tito had said Maverick was okay, but he clearly was as upset as his boyfriend about something.

But Dovi didn’t feel like going over to ask, as it wasn’t his business and he didn’t want to be blanked by Aleix yet again. What the hell had happened to him between last night and this morning?

He finished his salad and sandwiches on his own, as none of his other friends came into the bar that day.

And again, that afternoon, he was walking away from reception down a corridor directly towards Aleix, and all he received from him was a glare, then he turned his head away. Dovi blushed uncomfortably. _What the fuck. Last night we were in the shower, then he ignores me the next day. What does it mean?_

He brooded over this, even as he sat in a meeting with Livio and Iannone talking around him about their next fashion shoot. He was so miserable that even Iannone asked, “what’s the matter, mate?” in a gentle tone unlike his usual scornful one.

“Nothing,” Dovi snapped. “I’m fine.”

Livio and Iannone exchanged glances, and carried on talking about the shoot.

_So, maybe Aleix is the sort of person who just likes one-night stands? Well I’m not. I thought he was a kind and genuine guy, not a shallow slutty one. I don’t understand why he’s glaring at me though. I didn’t do anything wrong. Maybe he doesn’t want people to know what happened. Maybe he’s ashamed for some reason. Well, fuck him. Two can play at that game._

“What?” asked Iannone, who was staring at him. So was Livio.

“What?” replied Dovi.

“You said _well fuck him, two can play at that game.”_

“Oh did I? Sorry, I was thinking of my neighbour, he keeps leaving his dustbin in my driveway and I’ve had enough.”

“Oh, right,” said Livio.

But Iannone gave his colleague a disbelieving look.

***

Santi called his models to a meeting in his office, but when they arrived, he wasn’t there.

“He’s just keeping us waiting to make us nervous about what he’s going to say,” said Marc impatiently. “We know we’re going to get told off, so it’s a bit pointless.”

Dani smiled at him. “Whatever he says will be worth it though, after last night.” He fluttered his eyelashes shamelessly at his handsome, young boyfriend.

“Oh yeah…” Marc smiled naughtily and pounced on Dani, making him shriek and giggle. 

They rolled on the squeaky leather sofa, kissing and forgetting the time. The room was warm and they found themselves sticking to the sofa, which was even more inspiration for laughter. 

Suddenly, a voice barked, “You two! Stop that at once!” Of course it was Santi, who stood glaring at them in the doorway. “How dare you behave like that at work? What did I tell you before?”

“Sorry Santi,” they chorused, avoiding his glare because they were suppressing giggles.

“Now this is exactly why I called you here today. I was shocked at your rudeness last night!” Santi thumped his desk for effect. “The Dorna members specifically came to Repsol to see a welcoming, professional and sociable company. Not to see models disappearing off into their dressing rooms with each other!”

“But—” said Marc.

“No buts! It was inexcusable. Livio is furious and he’s going to speak to all of you at the close of business today. I’m right behind him. It was intolerable behaviour.”

“It wasn’t just us!” argued Marc. “All the other—”

“Don’t interrupt! Frankly Marc, I can’t believe you’re letting yourself be led astray by an older man!”

“What?” said Dani. “I’m not leading him astray!”

“No. _I’m_ leading _him_ astray.” Marc winked at his boyfriend and patted his knee.

“Stop it you two!” barked Santi. “You’re both being stupid. Work relationships always end in tears, believe me. At first it seems perfect, seeing each other every day, but then one partner becomes so ambitious and goes after his goals, leaving the other behind, the one who thought they would be together forever.” He was breathing hard and pacing about, sweat running down his face in the hot office. “It’s always the younger one, he gets his heart broken and then it’s too late!” He glared at the couple.

They stared back, silenced by his outburst.

“Marc you’ll regret this, believe me. If you have an older boyfriend, you’ll be left behind, wondering what happened.” He nodded at Dani, who sat there with wide eyes. Marc frowned, and reached for his boyfriend’s hand, giving it a squeeze.

“But Santi, I’d never do that—” began the little model.

“You say that now, but what about in a few years’ time when you’re on the verge of a great career and Marc is still starting out? It will all end in tears, you’ll break his heart and he’ll end up alone and wondering what happened.”

The trio stared at each other, then Santi sniffed, turned and stormed out of his own office. The other two sat there in stunned silence for a while.

“What the fuck was that about?” said Marc. “He’s gone insane.”

But Dani was worried. He knew he wouldn’t ever hurt Marc like that, but what was Santi talking about? Was it something to do with his own life? Dani wondered if he should go after his boss and find out.

***

After the Repsol House of Fashion closed for the day at 5 p.m., Livio called all the models and managers into the large meeting room, Gaultier. It was the best one to use in this weather, with state-of-the-art air conditioning and two water coolers.

He was rather surprised to find Marc and Dani in the room already when he arrived. They were just coming out of the visitors waiting area attached to Gaultier, straightening their shirts. 

“Well done you two,” he said jovially.

“What?” said Marc, his eyes widening.

“What did we do?” asked Dani, biting his lip.

“Obviously, you’ve been sensible to come here early to smarten yourselves up for the meeting.”

“Oh—yes—that! Yes, we wanted to—er—do exactly that,” stuttered Marc. He seemed to be trying not to laugh, although why, Livio couldn’t imagine. Dani appeared the same.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook. I’m still angry about your disappearing act last night! Like all the others. Go and sit down!”

“Yes sir,” they chorused, and hurried to sit together in the middle of the chairs.

The other models and managers drifted in one by one, and settled down in their chosen seats, luxuriating in the coolness after the hot, sticky day.

“I’m sure you’re all aware of why I’ve called you here.” He glanced round at everyone. Santi was sitting with his arms folded, gazing out of the window. Maverick and Tito were looking down at their feet, shoulders hunched. Marc was whispering to Dani, who was staring at Santi. Aleix was sitting on one side of the room wearing a sulky expression. Dovi was sitting on the other side, studying his phone, his mouth turned down. Iannone sat next to him, looking with concern at his colleague.

Livio puffed out his chest. None of them really looked happy—no doubt it was because they knew they’d done the wrong thing last night and were dreading his disapproval. He took a deep breath, ready to give them a piece of his mind:

“The Dorna staff came to our party last night expecting to see all our top models—to talk with you, to discuss future projects, to find out more about you. They were NOT happy when you all went off to your rooms hardly saying a word to them about anything. Carmelo sent me an email stating this in no uncertain terms and to be honest I’m worried we won’t get the business from Dorna that we hoped for. This includes you, Tito.” He looked at the receptionist with a steely glare. 

Tito jumped. “I—I’m sorry Mr Suppo. Very sorry.” The last thing he needed was to lose his job, what with Maverick’s father threatening him. And if they could somehow manage to deal with that threat, he still needed to buy a sofa.

“I am extremely disappointed in all of you. Even you managers.” He looked at Santi, who gave him the briefest of hostile glances, and at Shuhei, who blushed. “If you can’t control your models, how does it look to an external company who are offering us business?”

Iannone was grinning smugly.

“Andrea!” barked his boss. “Don’t think you’ve escaped reprimand. I was well aware of what you were doing last night. I’m not blind.”

His model had the grace to look away. He’d thought Livio hadn’t noticed him sneaking away with the eminent and well decorated Valentino Rossi, but obviously his manager wasn’t stupid. Iannone fell into a daydream about his activities with Valentino the night before, forgetting to worry about Dovi.

“And you too, Andrea D,” added Livio, making the slight Italian jump. “You were there for a while and then you were gone.”

“It’s not fair just to blame me and Iannone,” said Dovi, the heat and annoyance of the day getting to him. “The other models were the same, if not worse.” He looked pointedly at Marc, Dani, Tito and Maverick.

“What are you saying?” demanded Marc. “I’ve already been told off by Santi, I don’t need another telling off, thanks!”

Aleix was glaring at Dovi, who glared back, fed up with the weird atmosphere between them.

“In fact, Dovi and I were the best, most attentive models all evening,” said Iannone. “We deserved a bit of time off as the rest of you couldn’t be bothered.”

“We spoke to Dorna at the beginning!” retorted Maverick, also suffering from a short fuse today. “We did our best!”

“If that is your best, gentlemen, I would hate to see your worst!” shouted Livio, clapping his hands for silence.

But it didn’t work. All the models were angry and frustrated for one reason or another that evening, and the whole meeting descended into accusations and complaints, however much Livio shouted, clapped and thumped his fist on the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I expect some people won't like this chapter but it seems the recent upsets in life are coming out in my stories...


	13. Settees and Set-tos

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tito takes on the law.

Tito decided it was up to him to sort out the situation with Maverick’s parents. He had been getting so worried about it that he’d been letting other people take charge—Shuhei, Maverick, even the other models—and it was time to make a stand. If Maverick’s parents thought he was too much of a man for their son, he’d start acting like one and take control.

The first thing he did was speak to Aleix, as he was Maverick’s best friend.

“Can you distract Mav on Saturday, I’m going to do something important.” He looked determinedly at his confidante.

“Like what?” Aleix raised an eyebrow. “You’re not going to do something drastic, are you? 

“No—well—it is drastic, but—”

“Is this to do with Mav’s parents accusing you of all that crap?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to get you involved.”

“I’m already involved! Don’t do anything stupid!” He took Tito by the shoulders and shook him a little. “Tell me or I’ll get worried.”

“Well…I’m going to visit his parents and show them I’m just a normal person and no-one to be scared of. If they get to know me, they’ll realise I’m not some kind of predator.” He set his jaw.

“Are you insane?” shouted Aleix. Luckily, they were in his dressing room with the door shut, so hopefully nobody would overhear. “You could make it worse! They could have you arrested!”

“They can’t if I don’t try and force my way into the house. I looked up the legal aspects on the internet. If I just ring on the doorbell or knock, I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m only in the wrong if I try and force my way in.”

Aleix sighed. “Are you sure? Shall I come with you? What about your dad? Could he go?”

“He doesn’t know about this. He thinks I’m staying at Maverick’s home with him, I don’t want to worry him.” He folded his arms stubbornly. “If I take someone with me it’s like I can’t do it on my own.” 

“Why aren’t you telling Maverick? Why don’t you want to take him?”

“Because, he’ll get into an argument with his dad, it’ll all get heated and go wrong. And also, if I go on my own, and it goes wrong, he’ll never know. So you mustn’t tell him I’m going.” He looked earnestly at his friend. “Whatever happens, Aleix, don’t tell him! I mean it. He’s younger than us.”

Aleix sighed again. “Okay. But I don’t like it. What’s your excuse for going out without him on Saturday anyway?”

“I’ll tell him—er—that I’m going to get more clothes from home. Hm…will that work?”

“Not if you don’t bring clothes back! What about some great aunt’s birthday or something?”

“That’s a good idea. I’ll say it’ll be really boring and he won’t want to come with me. Great!” He patted Aleix on the arm.

“I just had a brilliant idea! We could go looking at new sofa-beds! So you know what to buy when you can afford it.”

“That is brilliant indeed. Well done, Dr Watson.”

“Who?”

“Dr Watson is the assistant to Sherlock Holmes. I’ve got all those books, they’re great. I can see myself as a detective.”

Aleix smiled fondly at his friend’s geekish interests.

***

“I was thinking,” said Alex to as he sat having a coffee with Maverick in his dressing room the next day. “As Tito has to go to his great aunt’s party on Saturday, you and I could go and order a sofa-bed and surprise him. I’ve bought a sofa before, it should be easy.”

“What’s the point of buying a sofa if my parents are going to take Tito away from me?”

“Let’s say they aren’t going to. You need a new sofa whatever happens, because this one is rubbish.” He pointed to the broken thing, as he and Maverick sat on hardback chairs in front of it. “And also, I hope you don’t mind but Tito said it was taking you both a long time to save up, so I asked the other guys and they’ve lent some money you can repay slowly, so you can get the sofa sooner.” Luckily, when he’d asked Iannone, Dovi had been there and he’d been able to ask them both at once without really talking to Dovi.

“Really?” The youngest model’s jaw dropped. “Th—that’s so kind of you. And them.” He hugged Aleix, awkwardly as it almost made him fall off his chair, but it made the older model smile. “Will Tito like it though?”

“I bet you know what he likes and dislikes, so I bet you can choose a good one. It would be a nice surprise for him after a boring party.”

“It would. He’s a bit hopeless about practical stuff, so I end up doing it.”

“There you are then. We’ll do that.”

Maverick smiled, which was an improvement to how he’d looked when Aleix knocked on his door earlier. Which made the older model’s next question more awkward, but he had to know.

“So, have you talked to your parents since they…you know…?” 

“No! Shuhei is going to speak to them. He was so nice about it all. I hate my dad, what the hell’s he doing? He thinks I’m some little kid but I’m not, I’m eighteen in a few months! He’s just a control freak, he—”

Aleix rubbed his friend’s arm. “Leave it to our boss, honestly. He’s unstoppable, I’ve known him longer than you and if he wants something, it happens.”

“I hope so. Tito’s done nothing wrong. He’s worth a hundred dads, he’s the best person ever.” Maverick was starry eyed, gazing into the distance. Aleix felt very old and cynical, even though he was only five years older, thinking, if someone as nice as Dovi could be a cheat, anyone could.

Maverick interrupted his thoughts, saying, “I just hope Shuhei can kick some sense into my dad.” He slurped the dregs of his coffee. “He needs someone to kick him.”

“Well don’t get annoyed again. Think of what type of sofa you want.” Aleix hoped he could keep his friend calm. Maverick would go mad if he even suspected his boyfriend of going to see his parents…

***

On Saturday, Tito had to take two buses to get to Maverick’s house. It was in a pleasant, leafy suburb of the city, up a slight hill into a cul-de-sac. The garden was enclosed by a white plastered wall with a white slatted gate in it, leading up a pebbled path to steps up to the front door. Tito paused for a minute to admire the house. Unlike his own terraced house near the railway line, with no garden, just a yard, Maverick’s house was large with walls decorated in swirled white plaster and set on its own in a green lawn. It looked cosy—the windows had red stone sills and arches, and he could see pretty, flowered curtains through the panes. The house looked like it was sitting comfortably in its garden, waiting for visitors.

So the tall blond ambled up the path like a proper visitor and rang the doorbell.

“Yes?” said the women who opened it. She was dark haired and cute, like her son, so Tito knew he’d got the right address.

“Hello, my name is Tito Rabat. I’ve come to talk to you about Maverick.”

She gasped, then heavy footsteps came stamping down the corridor.

“Get out of here!” shouted Maverick’s father. Tito recognised him from his appearance in the restaurant. “How dare you come to my house? Where’s my son? What have you done with him?”

“Angel, please!” shouted his wife. “Give the boy a chance to speak!”

“Boy! He’s no boy! He’s a man corrupting my son! Call the police, Luciana!” He slammed the door in the visitor’s face.

Tito gasped and stepped back. _That went well._ He retreated and sat on a carved stone garden seat, admiring the small pond with the weeping willow hanging over it.

Police sirens wailed in the distance and moved closer, then two cars stopped by the front gate and four officers rushed through it up to the front door. Tito watched warily as Angel Viñales opened it, had a quick conversation with the sergeant while the other three looked around the outside of the house. Tito of course didn’t move. He didn’t want to look guilty by either running away or hiding. He hoped he was doing the right thing. Suppose they did throw him in jail.

Angel suddenly shouted, “he’s there, you idiots! On the seat. The dangerous criminal I told you about who is holding my son Maverick captive!”

Tito stood up and walked towards the police officers, holding his hands away from him in a gesture of submission. _Hopefully this will be good enough for them not to wrestle me to the ground or something. Surely they won’t. It’s not like I’m armed._

Two constables took hold of him, however—one pulled his arms behind him and the other held his shoulder firmly. Angel Viñales strode closer, glaring at the young Catalan.

“Now you’ve got him, you must arrest him at once! I told your department all about it, now’s your chance!”

“Why did you come round to this house?” asked Sergeant Petrucci of Tito. “There is a severe penalty for harassment.”

The blond tried to remain calm, although he was shaking inside. “I’m not here to harass anyone. I hoped I could talk to Maverick’s parents normally and get to know them and they’d realise I’m not some weirdo but I’m actually trying to help their son because I—I really like him and he’s—he’s my first proper boyfriend.” He blushed intensely. 

Constable Herrera was gazing with big eyes at him until she remembered she was supposed to be looking at a potential criminal and frowned.

“Don’t believe him!” shouted Angel. “He’s called Tito Rabat, he’s holding my son hostage and he’s corrupting him! You should arrest—”

Sergeant Petrucci interrupted. “So, did Tito Rabat here attempt to force his way into your home just now?”

“Yes! He tried to push past my wife!”

“No, I didn’t,” said Tito politely. “I just rang the doorbell, then Señor Viñales called the police.”

“It’s true,” said Luciana. “He didn’t even try to come in.”

“He didn’t attempt to touch you or push you or threaten you?”

“No. Nothing like that. He just said who he was.”

Sergeant Petrucci looked round at the nearby houses, where the neighbours had gathered to see the commotion.

“She’s right!” shouted the postman, who had paused in the middle of his delivery. “I saw the whole thing. That young man rang the doorbell, then Señor Viñales came rushing out shouting to call the police. Then the young man went to sit on the garden bench, all quiet like.”

“So Señor Rabat, where is Maverick Viñales? Why isn’t he here?”

“He’s at the Repsol House of Fashion. I didn’t want him to come with me because I thought his dad would get into an argument and upset him. Also, _he_ asked _me_ to stay with him, I’m not holding him against his will. We moved in to Repsol because his father threw him out. He said if Mav wanted to stay at home he had to stop seeing me. Also, the managers of Repsol know we live there and understand our situation.” Tito paused after this long speech to recover his breath.

“Maverick is seventeen, so not an adult,” interrupted Angel. “He doesn’t know his own mind yet!”

“How old are you, Señor Rabat?” asked Sergeant Petrucci.

“Twenty-two.”

“I see,” said the sergeant. “So why is Señor Viñales accusing you of imprisoning his son? Why have you given him that impression?”

“Because my husband is a homophobic jerk!” interrupted Luciana. “He can’t accept our son is gay! He wants him to marry our neighbour’s girl.”

The four police officers made various expressions of surprise and disapproval.

“She’s known him all her life, she’s clever, pretty, wants children. Perfect for him,” exclaimed Angel.

“I see,” said Sergeant Petrucci. He nodded at Constables Redding and Mir who were holding Tito, and they let his hands go, although Redding kept his hand on Tito’s shoulder.

“So to sum up,” said the sergeant to Angel. “Tito Rabat rang on your doorbell. He didn’t attempt to enter the property. He wanted to get to know the parents of his boyfriend, Maverick, who is aged 17 and therefore over the age of consent, which is 16 in this country. They are living in the offices of the Repsol House of Fashion because that is the only way they can be together as you threw your son out of his home. The Repsol managers know this and don’t object.”

“Five years is too much of an age gap. It’s disgusting,” said Angel, folding his arms.

“Sir, I must caution you that wasting police time is an offence. This is a domestic situation and we can’t do anything to solve it.”

He turned to Tito.

“The only situation we can investigate is the legality of you and your boyfriend living in an office. There are health and safety implications, as well as security and building regulations.”

“Please, sergeant, speak to Maverick’s employer, Mr Shuhei Nakamoto. His contact details are on Repsol’s website. He can tell you about the situation, he is sympathetic to us.”

“I will. I suggest you all try to resolve this situation amicably and Señor Rabat, go back home. If you want to try to smooth things over with Maverick’s parents, try another time or in a neutral space.”

The sergeant gathered his officers and they hastened off to their police cars, muttering something about not being relationship counsellors.

Tito was left facing at Señor and Señora Viñales.

“Would you—would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” asked Luciana.

“Thanks, but I won’t. I don’t think we got off on the right foot. Here’s my number though, please contact me if you’d like to invite me for coffee another time.” He handed over a piece of paper. “I’d love to get to know you.”

They stared at him.

“I’d better go and catch my bus now.” He looked at his watch. “Well, thanks for—for at least talking to me.” He nodded at them and set off towards the bus stop, not knowing whether to laugh or be relieved he hadn’t been arrested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something went wrong yesterday when I posted this chapter, but the admin told me what to do and its ok now :)


	14. Aleix And Maverick Buy A Sofa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sofa project begins.

Aleix strode into the furniture store with his usual confidence, and headed straight for the sofa beds. Maverick scurried after him, feeling a bit out of his depth.

His friend stopped by a wildly leaf-patterned piece and looked around for a salesperson. The duo stood there for a few minutes, then a square, graceless man lumbered towards them.

“Morning, lads,” he smirked. He had an unfamiliar accent and a nervous smile. “Can I help you? Was it sofas you were looking at?”

“Sofa _beds_ ,” stated Aleix. “We want a new sofa _bed._ ”

“Oh, right. Okay. For your parents, is it?” The salesman’s name tag read _Cal Crutchlow._

“No, it’s not,” said Maverick sharply. “I'm not getting them a sofa!”

“Oh right, trying to surprise your wives then?”

Maverick noticed a wicked glint in his friend’s eyes.

“No, it’s for us. We broke our last sofa bed so we need a new one.” He put his arm round Maverick, who stifled a laugh and did the same to him.

“Oh! Right! Okay. Erm…well, how about this one?” Cal gestured to the nearest item, keeping his eyes nervously on his customers. The sofa bed had pastel flowery fabric with a wooden, curlicued frame.

“I’m not sure about this, are you, my dearest darling?” said Aleix, trying to look lovingly at his best friend.

“Oh neither am I, my darlingest dear,” replied Maverick, still trying to keep a straight face. “We need one that’s just more—more—flouncy!” He waved his arm as theatrically as he could. “With more frills.”

“Oh—er—um—” said Cal, looking away. “How about these?” He moved a few steps to the right, and pointed at a pink sofa bed, decorated with white hearts, next to a white one decorated in huge poppies. Each one had contrasting cushions—the pink sofa had heart shaped turquoise ones and the white one, yellow cushions shaped like poppies.

“I still don’t think that’s what we’re looking for, sweetie pie,” said Aleix, winking at his friend.

“No, honey buns, it isn’t. We’ve got to think about Tito, he has to like this too.”

“B—but, who’s Tito?” blurted Cal.

Aleix was about to reply to cover Maverick’s blunder, but he was too late.

“Tito’s our lover.” The young model smiled innocently at the frowning salesman. “We have regular threesomes, that’s why our last sofa broke.”

Cal’s mouth moved a few times but no words came out. “I’ll just—er—I have to—” He stumbled off, bumping into the furniture, while looking backwards at his customers.

The two friends burst out laughing, earning various looks from various customers nearby.

Aleix rolled his eyes at Maverick. “What a complete jerk. Let’s go somewhere else.”

“Some people, eh? He’s lost our business.”

Just then an older lady with long brown hair glided up to them. “Hello, I’m Suzi.”

Maverick peered at her name badge, which said _Suzi Perry._

“How can I help you? I’m sorry about my colleague, he—er—he got an urgent phone call.” Her expression, however, told them she knew what an idiot Cal was.

“Oh yes, thank you. We just want a normal sofa bed.” Aleix smiled winningly at her.

“Of course, sirs. And if there’s anything I can do to make up for my colleague, please let me know.”

“Thank you. We’d like the sofa delivered on a Saturday if possible?”

“Oh yes, we could arrange that.” She smiled at them both.

“Great. What about this one?” Aleix pointed to a cobalt blue sofa bed in a velvety fabric. It had sturdy wooden legs and a low back—not one of the bouncy sprung types with a metal frame. “What do you think?” He’d let go of Maverick now, and just smiled at him.

“It’s nice, it looks hand crafted. But I want a different colour.”

The saleswoman gestured towards a range of sofas in the same style—orange, red, brown, yellow, purple, green, grey.

“I like this one.” The youngest model went and sat on his favourite coloured sofa, bouncing a little and stroking the fabric admiringly.

“So how many instalments can we pay in?” asked Aleix, and began discussing the financial terms with Suzi.

***

Tito was surprised to find he’d returned ‘home’ to Repsol before Maverick and Aleix. So he slumped on the sofa cushions for a few minutes after the tiring encounter with the Viñales parents, then looked around and thought he’d better tidy up the room. There were clothes strewn about, a heap of dishes in the sink and piles of his notes everywhere. He was just finishing the washing up, when Maverick and Aleix burst through the door.

“Oh there you are!” The young model bounded over to him and leapt up like a dog, Tito catching him in his arms at the last minute. They nearly fell into the sink and Aleix laughed at their silliness. “I’ve got a big surprise for you!”

Tito chuckled. “Shh, not while Aleix is here.”

“Not that!” Maverick dropped down onto his feet, laughing. “We bought a sofa!”

The blond gasped in fake surprise. “When? I mean how?”

“Just now. I went shopping with Aleix, and the best thing is, all the models clubbed together to help us afford the deposit.”

Tito gasped again, but genuinely this time. “I—I didn’t know that. H-how?”

Maverick explained Aleix’s kindness asking all the models to chip in.

“Th—thanks, mate!” Tito shook his hand. “Can’t believe how kind they are.”

“I hope it went alright at your great aunt’s party?” Aleix winked.

“Er—well—nothing I couldn’t handle. I’ll tell you about it later.”

“I know you hate shopping so…I hope it’s okay I ordered the sofa?” continued Maverick.

“Of course, did you take a picture?”

“Yes, look it’s this one.” He showed his phone. “Like it?”

The sofa wasn’t the matte brown of the official Repsol sofas in each dressing room, but a royal purple, with a velvety texture.

“Livio would approve,” said Tito, giggling at the thought of the boss’s taste in rich colours.

“Yes, but do you? The saleswoman said it was treated with that easy-wipe stuff.” Maverick giggled too. “And very firm and stable.”

“That’s useful.” They were both laughing now. “Can’t wait to try it out.” Tito winked theatrically.

“Well I’d better be getting home,” said Aleix, feeling like a gooseberry.

“Oh yes, thanks!” They both hugged him, gratefully, for different reasons.

When their friend had gone, Tito sat down on the sofa cushions on the floor, pulled his boyfriend down with him and they snuggled up as well as they could on the unstable stack.

“I need to tell you something.”

“What is it? Is something wrong?” He stroked Tito’s hair.

“No, no. I just—I went to see your parents today.”

“WHAT? Why?”

“I hoped to talk some sense into them, but they called the police.”

“Oh my god, are you alright? What did they do to you?” He sat up in alarm.

“No, I’m fine. It was quite funny actually. They nearly arrested your dad instead.” He told the story of what happened at the Viñales homestead.

Maverick couldn’t stop laughing. “Serves him right.”

“I left my number so they could contact me when they’ve cooled down and I could get to know them.”

“What? Why? What if they send abuse or pass it on to people?”

“I’ll change my number. Simple as.”

“Okay. But you’re so brave.” He hugged Tito. “Most people wouldn’t bother with them.”

“Your mum’s okay, she was telling off your dad. I think she may be on your side.”

“I hope so. She’s finally realised he’s a jerk at last.”

“And of course, my first encounter with the police went well for me, so maybe they’ve made a note about your dad’s attitude.”

“I hope so.” Maverick gave one of his angelic smiles as he lay cuddled up to Tito.

***

Because the models had all clubbed together to pay the deposit for the new sofa, the company had agreed to deliver it the next Saturday. And Tito had the key to the building, so they all got together to carry it into Maverick’s dressing room.

“It won’t fit into the lift,” said Aleix despairingly after they’d tried all sorts of angles to jam the sofa into the small space.

“Yes, it’ll have to go up the stairs,” agreed Iannone, who along with Aleix and Tito had been doing most of the heavy work. The other models were slighter and although strong, not tall enough to move the sofa around so well.

“At least it’s only two flights,” said Tito encouragingly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

“Come on then!” said Marc, as he helped to pull the annoying object out of the lift. Luckily it had wheels so they could easily push it to the stairs, but then it would be brute strength to get it up the steps.

Dani acted as the foreman, as he was the smallest.

“I think you should work in pairs,” he began. Tito and Maverick grabbed each other and Dani looked at Aleix, assuming he would move towards Dovi, but he was looking in the opposite direction, as was Dovi.

“So…er—Marc you work with Aleix and Dovi with Iannone?” Dani was a bit thrown by this pairing but glad in a way because it meant Marc wouldn’t be with Iannone. He knew Marc didn’t fancy the tall Italian anymore, but he was more worried that they would get into an argument like at the Summer fashion shoot.

Everyone got into position around the sofa and Dani stayed in charge, co-ordinating the others to push, drag, balance and rotate the sofa up the stair case, around the landing and repeat four times. 

There was plenty of cursing and groaning and noises of pain on the way, but at last the group shoved the new sofa through the reception doors of the Repsol House of Fashion.

“God that was hard,” panted Aleix, stopping to catch his breath, as they all were doing after the long period of physical work. Dovi eyed him, all sweaty with his t-shirt clinging to his chest. 

Iannone noticed Dovi staring but Aleix ignoring him. He chewed his lip, wondering what it was all about. These two hadn’t said a word to each other this whole time and as far as he knew not since the party when they’d stolen his grapes and run off together. He’d always liked Dovi—second to himself of course—but he and Dovi would make a handsome couple. Maybe he could edge Aleix out of the picture.

***

“We can’t thank you guys enough,” said Maverick, and Tito nodded as he poured the beers out for all the models. Dani, Marc, Dovi and Iannone squeezed onto the new sofa, still in its plastic covering, while Aleix, Tito and Maverick perched on anything they could—a table, an office chair, a box.

Iannone was still interested in why there was such a bad atmosphere between Dovi and Aleix and kept looking slyly between them. Dovi sensed he was being nosey and tried to think of a way to distract him.

“So, does anyone know what the theme of the autumn photoshoot will be this year?” he asked.

“Autumn, presumably,” sneered Aleix, and Maverick giggled awkwardly.

“I think it’s going to be an outside shoot,” said Dani quickly, looking in surprise at Aleix’s mocking tone. Although he was more concerned about Santi—he hadn’t really spoken to him since the strange incident in his office. His boss had simply barked orders at him and Marc, rather than actually talking to them. Marc didn’t really notice or care, but Dani was worried about their manager.

“Outside!” said Marc excitedly, wriggling on the sofa and making the plastic cover squeak. “With fireworks, a bonfire, maybe a carnival.”

Tito smiled at him. “We can always hope.”

“And then we can come back to your room for hot chocolate and marshmallows after!”

Tito and Maverick exchanged glances with each other and with Aleix. Dovi wondered again what was going on between them.

Iannone was watching it all too. “Those three are planning world destruction,” he whispered to his colleague, making him giggle. “There will be an explosion in their room tonight.” Dovi giggled even more at this.

“What are you two whispering about?” said Aleix, glaring.

“Nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about,” said Iannone smugly.

“Would anyone like some food?” blurted the pacifist Tito, worried about the possible argument brewing. “We bought crisps and sandwiches to thank you for your help.” He went to the fridge and brought out the plates of food, while Maverick fetched the packets of crisps from the supermarket bag.

“Aren’t you kind?” said Dani with a smile.

“No, you lot are the kind ones,” said Maverick. “This sofa bed will save Tito’s back, he—”

Iannone laughed crudely. “Be careful or you’ll give us too much information about your sex life!”

The young model glared at him. “Not like that! He’s just too tall to sleep on cushions on the floor.”

“Anyway,” said Dani, always polite. “The autumn photo shoot will be outside, I presume we’ll be wearing cuddly jumpers and scarves, probably round a bonfire or something.”

“Hm, I can’t imagine wearing warm clothes now,” said Dovi. “It’s far too hot.”

Everyone sat thinking about this, chomping on the sandwiches and crisps.

“Do you want some of these?” said Aleix suddenly. He offered the plate of chorizo and cheese sandwiches to Dovi, who hesitated in surprise.

“No, he doesn’t,” said Iannone. “He doesn’t like spicy food.”

Dovi hesitated. He didn’t really like spicy chorizo but to refuse Aleix would be rude. However, Aleix had been rude to him and Iannone was defending him, so he said, “no thanks,” and didn’t take a sandwich.

“I told you so,” said Iannone. “I’m always right.”

Aleix stepped back with the plate, frowning, and Dani and Marc stared at the scene in surprise. Tito and Maverick were whispering together and looking at their sofa.

The group fell into silence, and the Active wear models soon left, saying they had to get home. Aleix went with them, not saying goodbye to anyone and Dovi realised Tito and Maverick wanted to be alone as they were gazing longingly at each other.

“Thanks for helping,” said Tito to Dovi while Iannone hovered round Maverick, who was cutting open the plastic sofa cover with his penknife. Dovi overheard him say, “if you want to try it out and see if it’s comfortable, I’m always here to help you.”

He was just about to intervene when Maverick replied, “if you want to try out falling down the stairs and see if it’s comfortable, I’m always here to push you.”

Tito and Dovi exchanged glances. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll take him away now. Come along,” said the slight Italian, dragging his colleague out of the room as fast as he could. “See you later guys.” 

***

As Iannone and Dovi walked towards the car park, the taller model asked, “So, what’s going on with you and Aleix? You went off with my grapes at the party, now you’re not speaking? Couldn’t he get it up or something?”

Dovi almost tripped over. “Yes—I mean, no—I mean, none of your business!”

“Come on, tell me.”

Dovi had been wanting to tell someone about what happened with Aleix, but Maverick and Tito seemed to have their own problems, and Dani and Marc were always mysteriously unavailable. Anyway, given his previous lusting after Dani, he didn’t feel too comfortable confiding in him, and anyway, Marc got a bit jealous if he spoke to Dani, so he was left with his Formal-wear colleague.

“Well—er—the grapes thing went very—er—well but the next day he stopped talking to me and acted like I’d done something wrong. I dunno. I know I didn’t do anything wrong, so what’s his problem?”

“He’s just a jerk. Don’t worry about it. You should go out with me instead. I don’t have any problems in the bedroom.” He fluttered his eyelashes at Dovi, who again nearly tripped over nothing.

“Thanks but I think I just need a friend right now. I don’t think I’m meant for boyfriends somehow.”

“That is a shame,” said Iannone, eyeing him up and down very obviously and making him blush.

“You’re very direct, aren’t you?”

“It’s the only way to get what you want in life.”

Dovi looked thoughtfully at Iannone—he wasn’t all bad, was he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a boring, dull day. So I thought I'd add another chapter to amuse myself and hopefully others. 
> 
> It also fits because Cal is moaning yet again about his race and he tried to punch Dani in a previous race so I really hate Cal now. And Aleix and Iannone were arguing in the race and they are arguing here so they are playing into my hands, mwah haha.


	15. Dovi Does Something Dramatic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some awkward meetings.

Iannone’s directness had given Dovi an idea, so he strode round to Aleix’s dressing room, determined to find out what his problem was. _Even if he slams the door in my face, at least I’ll know he isn’t worth bothering with._

He knocked on the door, even though he could hear voices from inside the room. One was saying, “I’m dreading it, I just know it won’t work. My dad is stubborn.”

But nothing was going to put Dovi off now. He’d come round to sort out the situation with Aleix and that was what he intended to do.

“Hang on,” he heard Aleix say, and the door opened. “Oh. Hello.” He was obviously shocked and silenced by seeing Dovi, so the Italian took the initiative.

“What’s the matter with you? After the party, you went weird on me and I want to know why.” He stood his ground, folding his arms defensively.

“Is that Dovi?” called Maverick’s voice. “He can come in if he wants.”

Aleix really had no choice then, so just pushed his door open for Dovi to enter, watching him as if he expected him to bite or something.

“Hey Mav.”

The young Catalan smiled, although his face was pale and drawn.

“Are you okay? You don’t look too good,” asked Dovi, putting his problems with Aleix on hold for a minute.

“I’m fine—well, not really but I don’t want to talk about it. But thanks anyway.”

Dovi frowned. _This is getting weirder and weirder. Is Maverick the reason Aleix went strange after the night of the party?_

Both Catalans were looking at him expectantly, but he wasn’t going to run away now, so he plucked up all his courage and said, “Aleix, I want to know what’s going on with you. We had a great time at the party, didn’t we? Or did I do something wrong? Because you acted like you didn’t want to talk to me afterwards. What’s happening?”

There was an awkward pause, then Maverick said, “okay. Right. I have to go and—er—help Tito with—er—something. I’ll see you later.” He stood up, smiled at them both and hurried out.

The Italian raised his eyebrows at Aleix. “Well?”

“Okay, you want to know? Well after the party I came round to your room, and you were on the phone. All lovey dovey, _I love you my angel, I miss you, see you soon.”_ He made exaggerated kissy noises. “Who’s that if it’s not a boyfriend?”

Dovi’s jaw dropped and he felt a wave of panic rush through his mind. _I can’t tell him. I’m not sure if I can trust him. What if I tell him my secret and he blabs to everyone? I could lose my job, I could lose everything, I could—_ He realised Aleix was standing with his arms folded, glaring at him.

“So I’ve found you out. You were just using me to get back at your boyfriend.” His shoulders slumped. “Thanks a lot! You’ve got a boyfriend yet you still made out with me! I’m not that kind of guy! I don’t want to be just some person you use when you’re horny and your boyfriend isn’t around! What are you trying to prove? Trying to get him jealous or something?”

“No, Aleix, no! It’s not like that.” _I’ve got no choice now. Maybe I can somehow persuade him to keep my secret? He used to be a nice guy til this happened, surely he can still be?_

He sighed. “Okay. A few years ago, I had a relationship with a woman. She became pregnant so we decided to keep the baby. Obviously, it didn’t work out between us so she married someone else. But my daughter comes to stay with me every weekend, she is five now and she is the most important thing in the world to me.”

“You have a daughter?” said Aleix. He sat down suddenly on the sofa.

***

“So, Señor and Señora Viñales,” said Shuhei as he ushered them into the Westwood meeting room on Monday morning. It was a smaller room, suitable for up to ten people, and he’d decided the meeting should be just himself and the older couple, rather than inviting Maverick and Tito as well. The two couples would just get into a confrontation and the whole thing end in uproar. Shuhei wanted to focus on changing the parents’ minds and of course…his plan.

He’d already had to shoo Marc and Dani out of Westwood. He was surprised that they always seemed to be in every room anyone went into. What on earth could they be doing?

“I’ve asked you here today to discuss your son’s living arrangements,” Shuhei said. “I thought he could—”

“His living arrangements are to come home to our house at once,” interrupted Maverick’s dad. “I don’t know why you’re getting involved. We want to get him away from that—that—”

“Angel!” snapped his wife. “Be respectful! Tito seemed such a nice boy when he came round to our house.”

“Boy! He’s a twenty-two-year-old man! Far too old for our son! Talk sense woman, you always—”

Shuhei clapped his hands. “Please! Let’s discuss this without arguing. Now, I want to ask, exactly why you object to Maverick’s relationship with Tito? Is it because of the age gap? Is it because they are both men? Or because they are living somewhere out of your control? What is the problem?”

“All of those!” shouted Angel. “It’s all wrong! We hoped Maverick would marry our neighbour’s daughter. She’s perfect for him. Our families get on well, it would be the perfect match.”

“Obviously she isn’t perfect for him, because he likes men!” shouted Maverick’s mother. “When will you realise that? I’ve told you so often, you never listen!”

“Because you keep on shouting, Luciana, that’s why!”

Shuhei began to realise why Maverick had wanted to escape the volatile atmosphere at his parents’ house.

“Please be quiet! Or I’ll have to call security!”

The couple subsided into mumbling.

“Now I have a plan to improve the situation.”

They looked at him suspiciously.

“I propose that Maverick moves in with me and my wife. We haven’t any children of our own but we have lots of nieces and nephews around Maverick’s age.” He looked hopefully at the Viñales parents.

They were silent.

“It’s the perfect solution. You can visit any time, he’ll be in a family home and not living in an office.”

“W-where do you live?” asked Luciana.

“In a very pleasant part of town, near the historical dockyard. We have a lovely house with a big garden, the nieces and nephews regularly came over to play jungle explorer when they were little. But of course now, they come for dinner.”

“Would Tito move in too?” asked Angel.

“No, he lives with his own family.”

“How do we know you’re not a predator preying on our son?”

Both parents glared at Shuhei.

“Please come to our house. Himari and I will be glad to entertain you. Perhaps you could stay over with Maverick sometimes? To reassure yourselves?”

“It’s out of the question!” exclaimed Angel. “We want Maverick at home with us, not staying with a stranger.”

“I just thought it would be safer for him to live in a residential area than living in an office building in the business district of town.” Shuhei and Angel faced each other, neither giving an inch.

“We can think about it, can’t we darling?” said Luciana, patting her husband’s arm.

“No. Maverick must come back to live with us. Tito can come and visit in the daytime if he wants but no overnight stays.” Angel folded his arms and the conversation was over.

Shuhei’s heart sank. _What will I tell Maverick and Tito? I can’t hide this from them. There has to be another solution._ He began thinking how he could save this difficult situation—he wasn’t beaten yet for sure.

***

Nervously, Dani knocked on Santi’s office door. He’d been worrying about his boss ever since his strange outburst after the party.

“Come in?” he called and Dani nervously tiptoed through the door.

“H—hello, I just wondered if you’re alright.” The little model put his hands in his pockets, then took them out, then clasped them behind his back.

Santi glowered at him for a few moments, then smiled. “I’m sorry about that. I let my feelings run away with me and I should have been more professional.”

“It’s okay, but I’d never treat Marc like that, surely you know that?”

The older Catalan paused. “Well…I hope not, but I’ve seen it too often, frankly. One partner’s career takes off and he leaves the other behind.”

“Did—did that happen to you once then?” Dani crossed his fingers behind his back. He’d either be fired or find out the reason for Santi’s behaviour.

His boss’s eyes widened, then to Dani’s surprise, they became watery and he gulped.

“Well if you must know, yes it did. So I’m extra cautious about work relationships now. I don’t want you or Marc to get hurt.”

“But that could happen to anyone, not just work colleagues. Or it might not happen at all.”

Santi paused. “I’ve found it’s better to keep people at a distance, Dani. It’s best to concentrate on your work and keep private life separate. It's just my advice, that’s all.”

“Oh…okay.”

“Sorry if it’s not what you wanted to hear, but life isn’t full of rainbows and kittens. I don’t want to see you and Marc cavorting around in work time, and my advice is to keep away from him out of work.” 

“But Santi, that’s not fair!”

“That’s life, I’m afraid. It’s not fair.” He shrugged at the little model. “I’ll see you in the meeting later.”

Dani had no choice but to leave the room. On the way out, however, he noticed a photo on the shelf. It was a handsome couple—the taller one had striking blue eyes, light brown hair and a mischievous smile, the shorter one was cuter, with short, dark curling hair, a clean-shaven jawline and a softer expression in his eyes. Both were slender and lean, even muscly and they looked happy and comfortable with their arms round each other.

Santi had turned his back now, so Dani got a good look at the photo, and wondered if that was his boss as a young man with his boyfriend. The boyfriend looked familiar somehow too.

He went to see Marc in his dressing room and as they cuddled up on the sofa, he related all that Santi had said.

“God!” said the younger model after listening to the whole story. “He’s been really hurt sometime in the past. But it shouldn’t affect us.”

“We’ll have to be extra careful in future. But you’re right, I’m not going to give you up because of Santi.” He stroked Marc’s hair and they kissed, not caring if anyone knocked on the door.

***

Dovi observed Aleix. He didn’t look disgusted or scared, so that was something. “Yes. My daughter was the one I was talking to. She’s my angel. Not some boyfriend. I haven’t had a boyfriend for a long time.”

“So…you’ve got a little daughter and no boyfriend?”

“Yes. I’m not lying.” He looked warily at Aleix. _Can I trust him with this big secret?_

“B-but why don’t you tell anyone?”

“Because…the modelling world isn’t suitable for a little child. I don’t want the media prying into her life and printing photos of her and exposing her to predators. So, I keep her secret and anyway she’s in a separate world where I can go to escape my job. I don’t want to mix the two.”

They stared at each other.

“Also the image of a devoted daddy isn’t what Repsol wants, is it? They want to be cool, chic, spontaneous. Their brand is for single people who don’t want to be tied down.”

“Maybe…but why didn’t you just tell _me_ about her?”

“Because I had no idea what your problem was. I thought you were just being weird and I didn’t want a weird boyfriend. Anyway, most men I meet don’t like kids and run away screaming if they find out I have a daughter, so I don’t tell them.”

“But I love kids! No way would I run away screaming! I’ve got a little brother and sister, I love looking after them. One day I’ll be Uncle Aleix to their kids.” He patted the sofa next to him so Dovi cautiously sat down.

“Can you keep my daughter a secret? I don’t want to be told off or sacked or something.”

“Of course! I won’t tell anyone, even Maverick.”

“Thanks.”

“Can I see a picture of her? What’s her name?”

“Sara.” Dovi pulled out his phone and showed photos of his little girl. 

“Oh! How cute! She looks just like you!”

“Does she? I think she looks more like her mum.”

“No, I can see you in her eyes and nose.”

“Thanks. People say that but I can’t see it. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about her before. No one here knows—except you now.”

“It must be really hard keeping her secret. You’ve done well to keep it for so long.”

“It is hard. Especially when her mum calls me about her during the day, I have to make up some excuse.”

“Hey! I could cover for you. If you need to talk on the phone or go and fetch her, I’ll distract people.”

Dovi suddenly had an image of Aleix juggling coloured bean bags or standing on his head to distract everyone, and grinned.

“Thanks.”

Aleix beamed. “I’m not put off by kids. I’ve got little cousins as well as siblings.” He got his own phone out. “See—here’s my cousins when they were babies. And here’s my brother, sister and me when we were small, there’s me in the middle. That’s my sister, she looked a bit like a boy when she was little.” He scrolled through lots of photos. “Here’s how they look now, they are teenagers. Here’s us on the waterslide. And at the beach. My brother likes to wear funny hats.” 

Dovi smiled to see the happy times Aleix spent with his relatives, and at his enthusiasm. They spent a while looking at the photos and talking about them.

“What a lovely family you’ve got,” said the Italian after they’d reached the last of the pictures.

“Thank you. If I’d known you had a family too, I wouldn’t have jumped to conclusions—I always assume things before thinking. It’s a bad habit.”

“It’s not that bad…you’re just impulsive. That’s not a crime.”

“But I should’ve been more sensible.”

“Well maybe _I_ should have been more sensible. Instead of thinking you were just weird.”

“No, no, it was all my fault.”

“No, it’s more my fault. I just made assumptions.”

“We’re both as bad as each other. I just—I thought you were perfect. The perfect man. Then I overheard the phone call and thought _not again._ Another man lets me down.”

“I’m not perfect! Far from it. You don’t need to idolise me.”

“If I promise not to idolise you, can I kiss you?” Aleix blushed deeply so Dovi stroked his cheek. They moved towards each other at the same time and clashed mouths, making both smile and kiss at the same time. It was such an awkward position though, that the Italian turned and swung his legs onto Aleix’s lap and they ended up falling half across the sofa, kissing sloppily and giggling at the same time.

Someone knocked on the door and a dark head peered round it, then a blond one, higher up. 

“Oh! Sorry. We came to see if everything’s okay,” said Maverick. “But I see it is.”

“We don’t mean to pry, we’re just concerned,” said Tito. 

“Also, Shuhei wants to see you in ten minutes, Aleix.”

“See you later,” said Tito and pulled Maverick backwards out of the room, shutting the door firmly.

“Aww…they were concerned about us,” said Aleix. 

Dovi smiled into his face, as they were still tangled up on the sofa.

“Do you forgive me now?”

“No, I normally go round kissing people I don’t forgive.”

“I hope you don’t.” Aleix waggled his eyebrows.

“No, I’m too cautious. I’d never do that.”

“You have to be cautious if you’ve got a little daughter.” They cuddled up happily. “That party was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Sure was. Maybe they’ll have an autumn party soon?”

“A Halloween one. We can dress up. I’ll be a vampire.”

“I’ll be a werewolf and chase you screaming through the woods.”

“Why would you be screaming?”

“YOU would be screaming, not me.”

“Why, what would you do if you catch me?” Aleix made a kissy face.

“Aha. You’ll have to wait and see.”

They smiled admiringly at each other, then Aleix realised it was time for his meeting with his boss and untangled himself from Dovi.

“I’ll see you later? We could have lunch?” He hovered round in the doorway.

“Yes. Have a fun meeting.” Dovi kissed him goodbye and walked back to his dressing room with a spring in his step. _Maybe being direct does have its advantages after all—I should do that more often._


	16. Chaos at the Autumn Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Models behaving badly.

A few weeks later, the Autumn photoshoot was held in a nearby orchard. The farmer had agreed to let them work there, in return for a large payment and the kudos of hosting a prestigious Repsol House of Fashion event. It would probably take half a day to shoot so everyone arrived there after lunch.

The three scenes were a bonfire, which the farm hands had started earlier and was now very bright; picking fruit in the orchard; and playing in the mounds of vivid autumn leaves.

Livio, wearing his usual dazzling outfit of a coloured suit and pastel shirt, was at the centre of things as always. This time his suit was tiger orange complemented with a pale lemon shirt, which gave him a fittingly autumn appearance.

Santi was hovering nearby, all in black today. He wore a loose top but it wasn’t a smock, and trousers, which made him look rather sinister, and everyone looked warily at him, wondering why he was frowning. He didn’t say anything, just left the directions to Livio.

Shuhei wore his usual neat dark suit, this time in dark chocolate with a cream shirt, as he’d felt he needed a more autumnal look instead of his normal black, white and grey.

Tito stood at the side with his list of models’ positions, requirements and a bag of spare clothing in case of mishaps. He felt glad he was wrapped in his warm jumper and corduroy trousers, all snuggly. The weather was actually getting cooler these days, so the models were also glad of their thicker clothes but they were more figure hugging and so not as warm as Tito’s.

“Aleix and Dovi, you’re standing round the bonfire,” Livio ordered, pointing as if they didn’t know what a bonfire was. “Marc and Maverick, your backdrop is the leaves. And Dani and Iannone, you’re in the orchard.” He pointed in different directions, like an overexcited policeman controlling the traffic.

Iannone hmphed and strode off to the fruit trees, muttering darkly to himself, followed by an unenthusiastic Dani, trudging along.

Marc and Maverick, however, skipped excitedly to their position, talking and giggling.

Aleix whispered to Dovi, “I’m just going to the shop, I’ll be back in a minute.” He winked and trotted off, leaving the slight Italian frowning after him, mystified.

***

“You two please stand by the apple trees,” instructed the photographer, Jenny, to Iannone and Dani. “As if you’re picking the fruit. One of you hold the basket while the other picks, if you like?”

“I’ll have to pick them, you’re too short,” sneered Iannone, reaching up to an apple and posing at the same time. He looked rather out of place in his smart chocolate-brown shirt and neat, hazel trousers—an urban party-goer somehow transplanted into a rural setting.

“Fine by me.” Dani shrugged and stood with the basket, like an elf in his cosy jumper, the same colour as Iannone’s shirt. But he wore jeans instead, in a warm cinnamon shade, which reflected the orange hues of the leaves around him.

The two models quietly got on with their work, standing in the poses Jenny requested, but too stubborn to talk to each other. Dani hadn’t forgotten how the Italian had insulted his beloved Marc at the Summer photoshoot, and Iannone hadn’t forgotten the smallest model’s nerve in confronting him that day.

“Come on guys, stand a bit closer and look like you’re working together,” said Jenny, stepping out from behind her camera. Her long blond plait was very neat and tidy, her makeup immaculate.

The models shuffled a few centimetres nearer to each other.

“A bit more?” she asked but Dani shook his head and Iannone pouted, rearranging his hair.

She spent a few more minutes trying to convince them but when she looked at her watch, she gave up and shot each model separately, knowing she could edit them later to look like they were helping each other.

“Put your hand out as if you’re taking the apple,” she said to Dani, who did so but looked away at the same time. Iannone held the apple towards him but also looked away. It was as if they were magnets repelling each other.

“They look like they’re doing some kind of dance,” whispered Marc to Tito and Maverick. “They’re going to do a twirl soon.”

The trio giggled, earning themselves a glare from the photographer. “Stop interrupting,” she said. “This is hard enough without you making a noise.”

“Sorry,” they chorused, suppressing their laughter.

***

Dovi stood on his own by the bonfire, wondering where Aleix had got to. A tap on his shoulder made him jump, and he turned to see his boyfriend holding a full carrier bag.

“What have you got there?”

“You’ll have to get it yourself,” said the cheeky Catalan, holding the bag behind him to make Dovi put his arms round him to get it. “No, no, you have to work harder than that.” He held the bag as far as he could backwards while Dovi reached for it.

They were pressed so tightly together now they began giggling, which became more and more uncontrollable. Eventually Dovi pushed him over and they fell onto the dry grass, tumbling around like puppies.

“Haha!” The triumphant Italian grabbed the bag and rolled away with it, laughing, and Aleix sat up, grinning from ear to ear.

Dovi pulled out some wooden skewers and marshmallows—his mouth fell open in delight. “I haven’t eaten these for years!”

“We can melt them in the bonfire. I would have bought chocolate to dip them in but I thought that might get on our clothes.” The couple both wore shades of red, Dovi in a smart wine-red shirt with matching trousers and a crimson waistcoat whilst Aleix wore a scarlet jumper with wine-red jeans, so they toned nicely together.

“I think I’ve messed up mine already,” said Dovi, biting his lip as he looked down at the grass and ash all over his trousers.

“Never mind, the marshmallows will make up for it.” Aleix threaded the sweets onto the skewers and shuffled closer to the bonfire. “Yum!”

“Thank you!” The slight Italian flung his arms round his boyfriend. “It’s so nice not to be the responsible one for once.”

“That’s the idea! I’ll look after you for a change. Here, this one’s ready.” He fed the melting marshmallow to Dovi, who could hardly eat it because he was grinning so broadly and of course it was hot and gooey.

***

Jenny had finished with the scowling Iannone and impatient Dani now, so turned her attention to Marc and Maverick, standing against the backdrop of crispy orange and yellow leaves. They toned nicely with the background, as their colour scheme was orange based—both wearing amber coloured tops. Maverick’s was a shirt, accompanied by smart sandy brown trousers, and Marc wore a textured jumper with brighter, fire-orange coloured jeans. 

“Kick at the leaves as if you’re playing in them,” said Jenny. “It’ll make a nice action shot.”

Marc needed no encouragement and pranced around in the leaves like an excited foal, intentionally kicking some at Maverick, who was more hesitant.

“Come on!” he exclaimed. “Enjoy yourself!” He grabbed some leaves and threw them at the younger model—luckily, they were dry as there hadn’t been any rain for some days.

Maverick didn’t move, so leaves fell all over his hair and went down his neck, making him burst out laughing. Jenny was snapping away with her camera, catching the two young men having fun in the leaves.

Dani had moved away from the annoying Iannone and stood with Tito, smiling at their boyfriends playing.

“Wish I could have done that. The orchard scene was boring,” he grumbled to the tall blond.

Tito, however, had other things on his mind. _Marc and Maverick just look so good with each other, frolicking around in the beautiful leaves. Two handsome models together._ He had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach—it was hard living at the office with Maverick. They had to be so sensible and always make sure they had enough food and drink, keep their room tidy all the time as it was rather small for a couple of lively young men to live in, and it could get too much being so close all the time. They worked together and lived together—it was like they had jumped into the deep end of a swimming pool all at once, from being like kids living at home with their parents, to being like a married couple. 

In the past, Tito had become too close to people too quickly and it hadn’t worked out. _It’s taken a long time for me and Maverick to get together and now where will it go? Will Maverick now get bored with me as others had in the past? Or will it be okay and last?_ Looking at Marc and Maverick made him feel old and boring. _Maybe I should go and visit my family, that’ll give me a boost—dad always has wise words and I haven’t seen him for ages. I’ve just been too afraid of Maverick seeing my ordinary, run-down home and neighbourhood, especially now I’ve seen the Viñales home and area. But I’ll have to show him one day._

While Jenny was pausing to reset her camera, Marc whispered mischievously to Maverick, “looks like our boyfriends are jealous of us.” 

The youngest model looked over to see Dani and Tito frowning at them. “I think you’re right.”

“Let’s wind them up.” Marc cackled naughtily and when Jenny told them she was starting to shoot again, he threw a big armful of leaves over Maverick’s head, blinding him so he fell backwards into a huge mound of them. 

“What did you do that for?” he spluttered, spitting leaves out of his mouth and kicking at his irritating companion, making him fall down next to him. Marc threw more and more leaves over him until Maverick couldn’t stand it and leapt on him, they ended up wrestling and fighting in the leaves, rolling over and over. Marc was cackling with laughter and Maverick grunting with annoyance, but it soon turned to giggles and shrieks of excitement. His shirt came undone, his hair was wild and ruffled and so was Marc’s, they were panting with exertion and both laughing.

“Guys!” shouted Jenny. “Calm down! This isn’t a porn shoot, tidy yourselves up.” Some hairs were straying out of her neat plait, and her brow had a smudge on where she had wiped her hand.

Iannone glided up to Dani and Tito. “Uh oh, looks like you two better start worrying.”

“No we shouldn’t!” snapped Tito, his worst fears bubbling over. “They’re just playing.”

“Hm, doesn’t look like it to me,” sniggered the Italian. He stole the odd glance at Dovi and Aleix, however, who were still cuddled up by the fire feeding each other marshmallows, and frowned. “You two will be left out soon, I’m telling you!”

“Shut up and stop stirring!” ordered Dani. “Sort your own love life out!”

“My love life is fine, thank you! I don’t need your advice!”

“It doesn’t look like it! You never have the same boyfriend twice!”

“What do you know anyway? You’re so boring—” 

“Andrea and Dani!” boomed Livio. “Be quiet! You’re interrupting the shoot.” The two adversaries realised everyone was staring at them in silence—the crew, the photographer, the models.

“Sorry Livio,” they mumbled.

“They still look happier together than with you two,” hissed Iannone under his breath after the shoot had resumed.

Dani sneered at him but the comment was too much for Tito however, and he walked away. 

“I’m going back to the office to relieve Nicco,” he said to Shuhei. “He’s been on reception long enough, he probably needs a break.” He strode away out of the orchard, leaving the awkward situation behind. _Maybe Maverick should be with someone more like Marc. It’s too difficult with me. His parents think I’m too old, we’re struggling along living in the office. Maybe I should just back off._

“You are a bitch!” snapped Dani at Iannone. “You’ve upset Tito, one of the nicest guys I know, for no reason at all!”

Iannone tossed his head. He was still looking jealously at Dovi and Aleix, who were totally oblivious to everything.

“My parents always have a bonfire for my little sister’s birthday, with fireworks,” Aleix was saying. “You could come to that?”

“Oh that sounds lovely.” Dovi was gazing with stars in his eyes at the tall Catalan and they were wrapped in each other’s arms by the bonfire, looking all cosy and loving.

Aleix whispered in his ear, “and Sara could come too? She’d love it.”

Dovi smiled even more at him.

“Guys!” shouted Jenny despairingly at Marc and Maverick. “Focus!” Her hair was almost out of its plait now and her mascara had run a little.

The two teenagers were still cavorting around in the leaves, giggling. Iannone was storming off towards the orchard, pushing everyone out of his way. Livio was trying to talk to Santi, who was turning his back whichever direction Livio tried—he looked like a weathervane in a gale, swinging round like that. And Aleix and Dovi were covered in dust due to their own rolling round by the bonfire.

Dani looked round at the scene, wondering how the photoshoot could be saved. But he was more worried about Tito, he’d never seen him stamp away in a huff like that before. He caught Shuhei’s eye and they shrugged despairingly at each other.

***

When Jenny finally got the shots she wanted from Marc and Maverick, she dismissed them and they bounced up to Dani.

“Where’s Tito?” asked Maverick, doing up his shirt and smoothing down his hair.

But Dani turned to Marc. “What were you trying to prove with that display?” he demanded, glaring at his boyfriend, who flinched.

“We were—we were just having fun, that—that’s all.”

“Well you did really well at that, you upset Tito with your silly games!”

“What? Why?” Marc's mouth fell open in horror.

“I’m not sure exactly but he stormed off back to the office. He looked upset. So well done, you idiot!”

Marc was chewing his lip and Maverick had gone pale.

“Me and Mav were only—having—h—having fun,” the nineteen-year-old mumbled, avoiding Dani's glare.

“Well it wasn’t fun for Tito and it wasn’t kind! You know how hard it is for him and Maverick right now with the parent problems and living in the office. And you know Tito feels like he’s not good enough sometimes. You just made it worse.”

Maverick blurted, “I better go and see how he is,” and strode off, leaving Marc looking guiltily at his petite but furious boyfriend.

“You need to think sometimes and not just do things. I know Maverick is so cute but how would you feel if it was me rolling around in the leaves with him?” Dani raised an eyebrow.

“Probably wouldn’t like it.”

“No. So you better apologise to Tito when you see him next.”

“Okay Dani.”

“You are very naughty.” Dani was quite enjoying telling him off, it made him feel powerful.

“Do you think I need punishing?” asked his cheeky boyfriend.

“No. Definitely not. You don’t need punishing.” Dani turned away, to hide the fact that he was suppressing a smile. He was angry with Marc but he could never stay that way for long.

“So you won’t be slapping my arse with your cock tonight then?” Marc whispered in his ear and the shorter man made a noise of surprise, making the nearest people look at him, so he turned it into a cough.

“No,” he said. “You’ve been far too bad. None of that tonight.”

Marc moaned with disappointment in his ear, but he had hopes of changing Dani’s mind. He usually got what he wanted…

***

Tito reached the office and stamped up to the reception desk.

“Everything alright?” asked the cute and gentle Nicco, smiling at him.

“Yes—thanks—I just got a bit cold outside and needed a break. Thanks for covering for me.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tito sighed as Nicco glided away. _Another guy Maverick would be better off with. Just stop it Tito. Stop. You’re having a bad day, that’s all. Tomorrow will be better_ But he couldn’t help thinking of Maverick rolling around in the leaves with the beautiful Marc, and feeling inadequate.

He was so lost in his own world he didn’t noticed someone walking hesitantly to the reception desk. 

“Hello?” said the visitor. “Sorry to disturb your thoughts, I’ve come to see if Marc Marquez is around. Just in case he’s here, I don’t want to get in your way.”

Tito frowned. Another fan of Marc come to annoy him. But when he looked up at the medium height, dark haired young man wearing glasses, who was lanky and angular, a bit like himself, his anger melted a little.

“I’m sorry, Marc’s out on a shoot right now. Who should I say called?”

“Oh! My name’s Alex. Alex Rins, but most people call me Rinsy. I was at school with Marc and now I’ve started a new job in the IT department here. I can’t believe my luck, I’m working at the famous Repsol Honda and my good friend is in the same company.” He carried on talking and Tito smiled. 

“Anyway,” he finished, “here’s my number. Tell Marc to call me. I mean, if you don’t mind. Thank you.” He stumbled away, looking round the glamorous reception area as if he’d never seen an office before, reeling like a pinball bumping into the flippers of the pinball machine.

Tito grinned at his dorkiness. _Maybe that’s the sort of man I should be with, a geeky type like me._ He mused on this for a while, until the phone rang and he had to answer it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alex Rins is the same age as Marc in this story. If I made him five years younger like the others, he'd be 15 which is far too young so he's 19.


	17. Maverick Takes A Big Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Love is still in the air...For some, anyway.

At the photoshoot, it was Dovi and Aleix’s turn to have their scene filmed. They hadn’t noticed Jenny and her crew moving the equipment nearer to them and remained cuddled up together, gazing into the flames.

“Come on you two,” she coaxed. “Stand near the bonfire and look moody.”

They stood up but still kept close together, with shoulders touching, both smiling goofily, their clothes covered in leaf mould and embers from the fire.

Jenny looked over to see Livio in the distance, trying to reason with Iannone, who was having some kind of tantrum. Santi was talking to Dani and Marc—well, it looked more like a heated discussion with arm waving and finger pointing by all three men. So she turned to Aleix’s boss, Shuhei, and shrugged, gesturing towards the couple by the bonfire.

“You need to tidy yourselves up,” he said to them. “Your clothes are in a terrible state.”

They looked down and gave themselves superficial brushes, which didn’t work too well as their hands were covered in marshmallow sugar. 

“You’ve made it worse,” giggled Aleix, pointing at Dovi’s waistcoat. “Here, let me rub it off for you.” He brushed both hands over the slight Italian’s ribs, making him giggle too. “Oh ticklish, are you?” He tickled him and they fell into a wriggling heap on the ground again, making their clothes even dirtier.

Jenny gave a very loud sigh. “The light’s starting to fade now, we might not get this done with the daylight equipment. If this goes on much longer, I’ll need to go and fetch the night gear.” Her blond plait had given up now and her hair hung loose over her shoulders.

“Boys!” Shuhei clapped his hands. “You must focus, or we’ll have to look at the terms of your contracts!”

This made the couple stand up again, but they were still smirking.

“That’s better,” said Jenny. “Now look into the bonfire as if you’re thinking deeply.”

Both models managed this for a few seconds at a time, before either falling into giggles again, or being unable to resist kissing each other, so it was a very slow process for Jenny to get the required shots. She and Shuhei began to develop headaches.

***

“This is exactly what I said would happen,” said Santi as he stood at the side, wagging his finger at Dani and Marc. “If you work together and play together, you see all the flirting of your partner and it ends up driving you mad.”

The two models stared at him, Marc’s smile wavering, Dani biting his lip.

“I warned you, Dani, didn’t I? It’s best to keep private lives separate from work, it only leads to trouble.”

“I agree with Santi,” interrupted a voice, and they all jumped to see Livio. “Better to keep private lives separate from work.”

Marc was just about to reply when Santi snapped, “well you’d know, Livio, wouldn’t you? You’re the master at that! Take advice from the master, you two.” Then he strode off, leaving the models frowning and Livio avoiding their glances.

“That sounds very wise,” said another voice, and this time it was Iannone, looking smug. “Always listen to the boss, he knows best.”

Dani sneered at the Italian sucking up to his manager.

“What do you know?” said Marc, still upset that he’d hurt Tito. “You never have proper relationships so you’re talking out of your arse as usual.”

“I am not. I have relationships! Just not with little boys like you!” Iannone stood proudly like a figure in a montage.

Dani could sense Marc was just about to explode so he quickly said, “let’s go back to the office, things seem to be finishing here now,” and steered his boyfriend away from the two Italians and towards the gate of the orchard. 

***

The door to the Repsol House of Fashion reception swung open a few minutes after Alex Rins had left and Maverick galloped in. He screeched to a halt in front of Tito and blurted, “what’s wrong? Why did you leave the shoot?” He bounced up and down on his toes as Tito gathered his thoughts.

“I—er—I just—you and Marc looked so cute together—I thought—well, I don’t want to hold you back in life, you don’t want a geeky boyfriend like me, you need to find some hot man who’ll further your career!” Tito’s heart was pounding like a jackhammer and he gazed at Maverick, whose eyes were wide, his jaw dropping, then he frowned and snapped his mouth shut.

“That’s the worst crap I’ve ever heard!” he shouted. He strode round the side of the reception desk and grabbed Tito by the wrist. “We’re going to talk about this!” He dragged the lanky blond towards their dressing room.

When they got into the room, he slammed the door, then pushed Tito onto the sofa and jumped on top of him. 

“I don’t want Marc,” he said sharply. “Or anyone else. I want you.” He kissed him cautiously on the lips, keeping an eye on him to make sure he was doing the right thing. “I wouldn’t be with you if I wanted some other guy. If you don’t believe it, feel me.” 

He took Tito’s hand and put it against the front of his trousers, which were straining from the pressure of his hard cock. Tito trembled and kissed him more deeply, pressing against him, their tongues twining, hot and wet and addictive. They kissed on and on, then Maverick paused, propping himself up a little.

“Tito, I want you to—I want you to be my first.”

Tito’s eyes widened and he gasped. “What? Now?” They gazed at each other for a minute.

“Well, not right now, if you don’t want to.” Maverick moved to the side a little. “Did I say the wrong thing? I just—”

Tito sat up. “No, it’s not that. I’m flattered, but—but—” He swallowed. “I—well, I—”

“What’s wrong? Don’t you like me?”

“Of course I do! Of course.” He hugged him. “I just don’t think I’m good enough for you.”

“Why? What the fuck, Tito?” His dark eyes were lit with anger.

Tito took a deep breath. “Okay, well, when my mum died, I met this man, he was in his thirties and I was eighteen. He was a model, like you, very good looking, I couldn’t believe he liked me. He even said he loved me and I was wonderful and he’d look after me forever and so on. I was an idiot and believed him. I was devastated when Mama died, I just fell apart and he—he seemed to want to help me.”

Maverick arranged them more comfortably on the sofa so he was sitting closely against the tall blond, holding his hand. “Tell me what happened, I need to know.”

“So—yes—this guy, he was lovely…for a while. Then he started finding fault with everything I did. Little things at first like leaving the toothpaste lid off, then bigger and bigger things, like the clothes I wore, the words I used, how I spoke to people, until I couldn’t do anything right.”

“How could he find fault with you!” exclaimed the younger model.

“I just couldn’t do anything right. I couldn’t please him. He kept telling me to be more confident, more sociable but I couldn’t just magically be like that. And I tried to do whatever he said he wanted but what he wanted was always changing. He said one thing, like a present he wanted for his birthday, and I got it, then he said it wasn’t the right thing or not wrapped well enough or something. Eventually I was so depressed I decided to break up with him, but he beat me to it. He dumped me…and went back to his wife!” Tito sniffed and wiped his eyes with his hand.

“WHAT!” Maverick punched the sofa. “The bastard! I’ll kill him!”

“No don’t! Forget it. I have. Honestly.”

“You haven’t forgotten it! Or you wouldn’t be upset and—nervous and worried I’d cheat on you!” Maverick hugged him tightly.

“I’m alright. I just learned a lesson.”

“Well, I—I don’t want to sound like that bastard but I’ll look after you! I’m not like him. Jesus! He’s fucking scum.” Maverick was so annoyed he had to jump up and pace round the room.

“So that’s why I’m a bit cautious.”

The dark-haired model was swearing away to himself, but took a few deep breaths and calmed down. He flung himself on the sofa next to his boyfriend. “That won’t happen with me. You know I’m not married. We’ve been going slow with this relationship. I could have dumped you and did what my parents wanted me to, but I didn’t. This isn’t the same as you and that arsehole, I promise.”

Tito smiled a little. “Sometimes you seem like you’re older than me, you’re so certain about everything.” 

Maverick smiled back. “I am certain. You’re not to believe you’re wrong or bad. About anything. I won’t let you. Sorry if I sound like that man, but I’m not like him.” His eyes were lit with pride now and he leaned over to kiss his hurt boyfriend. The kiss became more and more passionate, then Maverick clutched at Tito’s shirt and suddenly ripped it open making him gasp in his mouth as Maverick bit his lip before he leant back. This didn’t give Tito much time to respond before he latched onto his nipple, rubbing the other with his index finger and thumb and when the nail scraped over it, Tito couldn’t help but moan. Maverick looked up through his eyelashes with a smirk, his nimble fingers moving to his jeans and popping the button before pulling the zipper down. Suddenly he leant up and grabbed Tito’s hands, placing them above his head.

“Keep them there.”

Tito nodded as Maverick kissed and nipped his way down his trembling body, fingers hooking in the waistband of his jeans and pushing them down with his boxers, eyes getting wide when he saw Tito’s hard cock jumping up, already leaking. For a moment the younger model froze, having never seen an erect cock in the flesh, except his own of course, and the occasional one on the internet, where they were difficult to avoid. Tentatively, he reached out and traced the vein on the underside with his finger, eliciting a gasp when it responded, Tito’s hips jerking towards his touch.

“Mav…”

Maverick’s eyes jerked up to lock in on Tito’s which were dark with lust and the younger moved over him, knees either side of his body and hands next to his head.

“Undress me.”

It was said with such authority that Tito automatically moved to grasp his shirt and rip it off him, fingers slid over skin to his jeans, opened them up and slipped his hands to the back and down to slide them underneath the jeans and boxers, following the curve of his ass. He pushed them down his hips, slightly rising up in the process and pushed Maverick up onto his knees, their lips inches away from each other and when Tito leant in, fingers caressing Maverick’s side, the younger placed his hands against his shoulders.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

“Turn around, on your knees and spread your legs.” Maverick smirked and Tito blushed, knowing where this was going—even though it wasn’t a first for him, it would be his first with Maverick. Before he could say anything, the younger man moved backwards to give him room. 

Tito turned around and lay down on his front, leaning on his elbows, feeling how Maverick moved closer. He heard a cap being pushed open and presumed it was lube, then the next moment he felt slick fingers sliding between his arse cheeks he shivered at being correct, closed his eyes and focussed on those fingers that circled his hole. They hesitated a little and then carefully one of them used some pressure and the tip slipped inside making Tito gasp and tense.

Already feeling the finger being pulled back, Tito moved his hips down.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not, I’ve been here before, just...keep going.”

Maverick pushed the finger inside deeper, moving it around and as slowly as he could, pushed in a second.

“Scissor them and point them upwards towards…oh god!”

Maverick did what he said and almost immediately Tito gave a loud deep moan, pushing his head in the pillow, nervously giggling at the volume of the sound he’d made.

“How’s that?”

“Yes, right there...” Tito couldn’t help pushing backwards and he had to make an effort not to come already. “Another one...please Mav...”

Maverick growled in his ear.

“Just push in a third finger…please.”

Maverick did so, marvelling at how easily it was accepted by his lover, his glance moving over the beautiful body that was beneath him.

“Ok, stop...” Tito said sharply, with a shake in his voice.

The young model slowly pulled his fingers out and kissed Tito’s back, then helped him move to lie on his back and the older closed his eyes for a moment.

“You ok?”

“I’m fine, just need a moment to calm down. Are you sure you’ve never done this before cos you could have fooled me.”

“You mean that?” He planted butterfly kisses on Tito’s chest.

“I do, it felt fucking amazing.”

Tito’s fingers slipped into his hair then pulled him into a deep kiss, both moaning when their cocks rubbed together.

“Get a pillow and put it under my hips.” Tito whispered against his lips.

Maverick grabbed a pillow, sliding it under the hips and tilting them, then shuffled closer between his legs and Tito raised them, putting his feet on the mattress. The younger man took his cock in hand, covered it with lube, then aligned it against his lover’s opening and slowly pushed inside. The feeling of being inside someone for the first time was overwhelming and he bit his lip when he got half way in, hearing Tito’s breathing stutter. He looked up to check he was okay, enjoying looking over his boyfriend’s relaxed body. The blond’s eyes were closed and his head pushed back, he was biting his lip but smiling at the same time. Maverick felt a flutter of pride in his heart that he had that effect on him and, unable to wait any longer, with one quick thrust he filled him completely. Tito’s eyes flew open and his mouth fell into a perfect ‘O’, his body arching a little off the bed. Their eyes met and Tito reached a hand out, Maverick leant forward and both moaned and gasped when he touched the prostate. He put his hands next to the older’s head, and their lips found each other in a soft sweet kiss.

“Move now.” Tito whispered.

Maverick obeyed, giving slow thrusts of his hips then legs wrapped around his waist to lock against his lower back, giving soft nudges to urge him on. Slowly he increased the rhythm, the thrusts getting deeper, touching Tito’s prostate every time, making him cry out with pleasure. Maverick buried his head against his lover’s neck, who moved his hands move slowly up and down his back, fingertips tracing his spine, then he bit Maverick’s earlobe, which made him shudder and falter slightly in his thrusts. 

Tito chuckled naughtily and kissed his cheek, making Maverick look at him, their glances met and both only saw love and adoration in each other’s eyes. 

“You can go faster and swivel your hips a bit.”

The younger leant up so he could put more force behind his thrusts and after having rotated his hips a few times, the couple’s moans and whimpers became louder, their fingers laced together. They tried to keep eye contact at the moment Tito came, gushing between them and clenching deliciously around Maverick, gripping him like a vice until he joined him, shuddering and jerking with pleasure as he came inside the man he loved.

He collapsed on top and Tito wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close, not caring about the sticky mess between them, as they slowly came down from their high, trembling and breathing heavily, their hearts beating against each other.

Eventually, Maverick rolled off, and lay on his back beside him, their fingers entwined.

“Good?” Tito asked. Maverick was surprised at the nervous tone, which made him look across at him. 

“Amazing.” He rolled onto his side, cuddling close to Tito, who wrapped him up in his arms and kissed the top of his head.

“Don’t panic, but I—I love you.”

“I love you too, silly.” Maverick mumbled, nuzzling closer, then made a snoring noise and Tito grinned, realising he’d fallen asleep. He arranged them more comfortably, and dozed off too, warm and satisfied.

***

Back at the photo shoot, Iannone stood around chatting up the photographers’ assistants, so Livio set off after Santi, finally cornering him near the pear trees.

“That went well, didn’t it?” he said cheerily.

“What?”

“The shoot.”

Santi raised his eyebrows. “Are you insane? Half of them are arguing, the other half are making out, the photographer couldn’t get the shots she wanted and—and—I don’t even want to talk to you!” He began to walk away but Livio put a hand on his arm.

“You’re acting like a child! What’s wrong with you lately?”

“I don’t think I can do this Livio! I thought I could work with you but I can’t! It’s too difficult after what happened twenty years ago!” He stood facing the Italian, his expression like thunder and Livio cowered in front of him, mumbling:

“It’s all in the past now, Santi, it’s not worth getting upset again.”

“Not worth getting upset? Well…now I know what you really think of me!” He successfully escaped this time and set off towards his car.

Shuhei had followed them, and said quietly to Livio, “you better sort that out or it’ll cause problems in the management structure.”

“What the hell do you mean?”

“Well, I’m not stupid. Obviously something you’ve done has upset him, so please Livio! Work it out with him. The three of us make a good team so I don’t want anything spoiling it.”

***

Jenny clicked the cap of her camera shut and put it to one side. “Well I did my best, Mr Suppo.”

“Oh please dear, call me Livio.” 

“I got a few more shots of Iannone, Dovi and Aleix, but the other three seem to have gone back to your office. I can edit the photos to look better, though, I promise I’ll do my best.”

“Of course. They aren’t usually this difficult, something seems to have got into them today. Maybe the weather?” 

“I’m not sure it’s the weather…”

Livio followed her glance to where two figures, covered in leaf debris, dust, bonfire ash and melted marshmallow blobs, were kissing on the ground. They were so close to the bonfire that it was lucky the flames were just embers now, or the lovers would have caught fire.

“Come on you two,” said Shuhei, clapping his hands at them. “We’re going back to the office now, it’s nearly dark and getting cold. You don’t want to catch chills.”

They looked up at him cutely, like two naughty elves, grinning mischievously.

“I’m very warm actually,” said Dovi. He did look rather flushed.

“Is it time to go already?” asked Aleix, also a similar shade to his scarlet jumper. “Feels like we only just got here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to my glamorous assistant, the sex scene queen Lady Marquez 93, who helped me with this chapter immensely. In fact, she wrote most of it *applauds*


	18. Dramatic Changes On The Horizon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some models get their punishments, some don’t.

“Should I go and apologise to Tito now?” asked Marc as he returned to the reception area with Dani after the shoot.

The shorter model looked around to see no one at the desk and got a strong feeling Tito had better places to be. “Maybe not now, eh? He’s probably with Maverick in their room.”

“So, when will you take me to _our_ room?” Marc fluttered his eyelashes at his boyfriend, trying to look as cute as possible.

“I might. You’ve been very bad, so I might not take you to any room.”

“Well the reception desk is free.” Marc jumped up and lay on it, resting his head on his hand and pouting like he was advertising lipstick.

Dani giggled. “I think you should go to your room and wait for me there. I need to get…something.”

Marc’s eyes widened. “Yes, okay. I mean, yes, Dani.” He hurried off to his dressing room while his boyfriend smirked and went to his.

The young Catalan waited for about ten minutes, getting more and more impatient. Should he leave his clothes on or take them off? Should he lie on the sofa or just sit? He tried various positions, not sure which looked most attractive.

Then the door banged open and Dani marched in, carrying a bulging canvas bag.

“Now Marc,” he said bossily. “You’ve been very naughty hurting Tito and you must apologise, but before that—”

“I will apologise, but—”

“Don’t interrupt me!” From the bag, Dani took out the sailor cap he’d worn for the summer photoshoot and put it on.

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Quiet! Don’t speak unless I tell you to!”

“Sorry—I mean—er—”

“You must take all your clothes off.”

Marc hastened to do so, throwing them off carelessly, so they landed all over the place. This was promising! He lay on the sofa, trying to look sexy. “Like this?”

“What did I just say? No talking.”

Marc put his hands over his mouth, with an exaggerated gesture.

The older model took out a belt from his bag, hiding his smile as he did so. He pushed Marc back onto the sofa and strapped his hands together over his head, round the arm of the sofa somehow. It was a clever arrangement, and Dani was pleased it worked.

He stood up, and began taking his own clothes off, very slowly. First, he removed his jumper, stretching up high to get it over his head. Then his shirt, button by button and slowly shrugged it off his shoulders. Then his jeans, also button by button, and kicked them off in slow motion, looking at Marc all the time. The younger man writhed on the sofa, partly acting and partly frustrated because he couldn’t get up and help. 

“Ohhhh Daniiiii!” he shrieked suddenly. “You’re so mean!”

“I think we’ll have some music on, to hide your disobedience.” Dani went to the CDs on the side and shuffled through them, making sure to bend over as much as possible, wiggling his boxer-clad bum at the restrained Marc, who made a noise of frustration. “Oh Marc, really, The Rocky Horror Show?” He turned to look at his boyfriend. “I knew you had bad taste in music but really?” He smirked.

“It’s not mine, honest! It’s—er—someone else’s.”

Dani smiled. It was definitely usable though. He peered at the track list, selected the one he wanted and pressed Play.

_“I was feeling done in._

_Couldn’t win,”_ began the song, and Dani slumped, trying to look sad.

_“I’d only ever kissed before.”_

He approached the bed, wearing only the sailor hat and boxer shorts. Marc grinned at him.

 _“I thought there’s no use getting,_

_Into heavy petting._

_It only leads to trouble,_

_And…seat wetting.”_

Dani began to shuffle off his boxers, very slowly, his boyfriend’s eyes widened and he wriggled against his restraints.

_“Now all I wanna know. Is how to go…”_

The older model suddenly ripped his underpants off, twirling them in the air round his finger until they flew off onto Marc’s face, making him shriek with frustration. 

Dani danced around for a while only wearing his sailor hat and his boyfriend’s eyes were nearly out on stalks watching his tanned, naked body moving, his hardening cock bobbing, his muscles rippling. He even did a bit of twerking, making Marc shout, “ohhhhhh Dani!” and burst into giggles. Dani was normally so reserved, the younger model was glad no one else saw this side of him, nakedly twerking in a sailor hat. It was all private dancing for Marc’s eyes only.

Then he leapt on top of Marc like a cat, and pulled his boxers off. He was still wearing the sailor hat as it gave him the air of authority, he thought.

_“I’ve tasted blood and I want more._

_More more more!”_

He licked up Marc’s chest to his face and seemed to be going to kiss him, but pulled away at the last minute, making the younger man strain upwards but miss out on the kiss, growling with annoyance.

_“I’ll put up no resistance,_

_I want to stay the distance.”_

Dani moved up the sofa, his hard cock moving closer to Marc’s face and hitting him on the chin, then suddenly moving down again, taking the cock away.

“Ohhhh Daniii!”

“Quiet!”

 _“I’ve got an itch to scratch,_

_I need assistance.”_

The shorter model rubbed his naked body up and down his tethered boyfriend’s, their hot muscles sliding together, hard cocks against each other, all sweaty and hot. 

Marc moaned, and tried to hold Dani still with his legs, but the older was up to all the tricks and shouted, “no leg movements, or I’ll stop.” So Marc obediently lay still.

_“Toucha toucha toucha touch me,_

_I wanna be dirty,_

_Thrill me chill me fulfil me,_

_Creature of the night.”_

Dani kissed Marc, all tongues and teeth and drool, pressing himself against him more and more intensely while the younger model pushed up against him, trying to get satisfaction.

_“Then if anything grows,_

_While you pose,_

_I’ll oil you up_

_And rub you down.”_

Dani put his hand down between them and grasped both cocks, making Marc screech and himself groan as he stroked them together.

_“And that’s just one small fraction,_

_Of the main attraction._

_You need a friendly hand,_

_And I need action.”_

“Ohhh Daniiii!” Marc flung his head back and his boyfriend couldn’t resist any longer. He sucked his finger then wriggled it inside, making Marc shriek and buck against him. 

_“Toucha toucha toucha touch me,_

_I wanna be dirty,_

_Thrill me chill me fulfil me,_

_Creature of the night.”_

After doing this for a while with a second finger too, Dani grabbed the nearby lube and lathered his cock with it, then edged it inside Marc, who was still tied to the sofa. He hadn’t really intended this to happen at work, he’d just meant to tease him a bit, but why not? They were in this position now so time to go with it. Marc arched up, gasping and they moved together, getting into a rhythm.

The song chorus continued, over and over.

_“Toucha toucha toucha touch me,_

_I wanna be dirty,_

_Thrill me chill me fulfil me,_

_Creature of the night.”_

As Dani pushed inside harder and harder, Marc’s legs came up round him and they rocked and wriggled together. Dani forgot about punishing him and thrust faster and faster, pushing him up the sofa until the hot tightness became too much. He gushed it all out into Marc, his body pressing his boyfriend’s aching cock between them, so he took hold of it, Marc arching up into his hand as he came and covered them with hot stickiness.

As they lay together, panting and shuddering as they calmed down, Marc mumbled. “That was my favourite punishment ever, can we do it again sometime?”

Dani looked up and smiled. “Yes I think so. You are always so bad, you need lots of punishing. But I might find another way of tying you. That belt isn’t ideal.”

“Mm…looking forward to it.” He winked and grinned widely.

***

In their dressing room, Tito and Maverick awoke to hear the other models and managers coming back from the shoot and collecting their belongings, then calling goodbye to each other. Then the Repsol offices were silent again, as they were every night.

“That was so good,” mumbled the youngest model, still nuzzling into Tito as they were all warm and cosy together.

Tito was just about to speak when they heard a creak outside their room, followed by a crash.

“W-what was that?” stuttered Maverick, sitting up.

“I don’t know. Shall I—shall I go and see?” Tito was scared but if he had to protect his boyfriend, he would have the heart of a lion.

“No! Oh, well only if I come with you.”

They put their clothes on quietly, still a bit light headed after their earlier passion, and Tito picked up a torch, opened the dressing room door as quietly as possible, and locked it behind them.

Maverick, carrying a heavy tin he’d quickly emptied of bread, pointed to the office the noise had come from, then they both jumped as there was another crash. He whispered, “call police?” in his boyfriend’s ear, but he shook his head violently.

The couple tiptoed towards the office—it was Santi’s, who the hell was in there? Tito flung open the door and there was a commotion of movement inside. The two guys shrieked, clutching at each other with their hearts pounding, but it was only a cat, jumping in terror at being discovered.

Before they could do anything, the frightened creature raced out of the door and off into the darkness.

Maverick and Tito briefly hugged each other in relief, then ran back to their dressing room and ran in, slamming and locking the door.

“Fucking hell,” gasped the younger man. “What a wakeup call.”

Tito chewed his lip. “I think we should stop living here. This is always happening—not cats I mean, but strange noises. How many times have we laid here feeling scared by weird sounds, or gone out to investigate? Luckily, it’s always been a window banging in the wind or a printer left on overnight but one day it might not be. We need to get out of here before we end up catching a burglar.”

“Well where else can we go? My parents are—are—well you know what they are.”

“Let’s go and visit my dad. He can tell us what to do.”

“Could we stay with him?”

Tito paused for so long that Maverick thought he hadn’t heard.

“We could,” the blond said at last, “but it’s a crappy area and dangerous. Would you be alright?”

“I’m not made of glass!” snapped his boyfriend. “You know I do kickboxing to keep in shape.”

“Alright, alright. I’m only concerned about you.” Tito’s heart was still pounding after the scare.

“I’ll be fine. Let’s ask your dad.”

“We’ll go on Saturday.” Tito grinned at him. “We had such a great time earlier, let’s not let a cat ruin it.”

“No. Come on.” 

They took off their hastily pulled on clothes and cuddled up in bed again. What a night—from bliss to terror and back.

***

“So, boys,” said Santi the next morning, smiling coldly at Marc and Dani as they sat in his office. “I have exciting news.”

They both looked at him with interest. Dani wondered if maybe Santi was getting a promotion to cheer him up—what could it be? Becoming head of another branch of Repsol perhaps? Maybe one in Britain, or…America?

Marc hoped it was a special Activewear fashion shoot, just for himself and Dani, somewhere exotic like the Seychelles or Hawaii.

“I have decided, with Shuhei’s agreement, to make changes in our department,” said Santi triumphantly. “Dani will go to Officewear and Aleix will come to Activewear. Like an exchange program, but permanent.”

The two models gasped in horror. What would this mean for their relationship?

“Dani is far better suited to Officewear as he’s a quiet, neat type of guy, and Aleix is full of energy, rather like you Marc.” Santi looked at them, waiting for a reaction.

“But you can’t do that!” exclaimed Marc. “Dani fits perfectly into this department, he—he—”

“Why shake things up now, Santi?” asked Dani. “It’s nearly the end of the year, why not wait til next season?” He felt shaky with the shock of potentially losing Marc.

“It is for the best,” said their boss. “I will not have distractions in my department and I’m not stupid. I know you two have been making out in every room in the building. I want to take away the temptation. I know that Aleix and Maverick are with Dovi and Tito, so they will have professional relationships with you two.”

“This isn’t fair!” shouted Marc. “You’re just trying to split us up!”

“He’s right, you are,” agreed Dani, his eyes flashing with anger.

“That’s enough! Do you want to lose your jobs? You’re going about it the right way if you do!”

The models stared at their boss, and backed down.

“That’s better. Aleix will be joining us next week so I expect you to help him as much as you can, Marc.”

 

After the meeting, Dani and Marc held their own meeting in Dani’s dressing room, letting out all their annoyance in a stream of talking, without really listening to each other. At the end, Marc suddenly stopped in the middle of his sentence.

“I’m going to talk to Livio about this. He’s the only one who can make Santi see sense!”

Dani nodded, desperate not to lose his beloved boyfriend. Seeing him out of work only wouldn’t be half as much fun as their activities in the office.

“I’ll speak to him at the end of the day, we’re all busy til then.” Marc set his jaw, and Dani knew he couldn’t change his mind now.

***

That lunchtime, Alex Rins decided to sneak up to the models’ department to see Marc and anyone else he happened to bump into. He ambled into reception, avoiding models and visitors and god knows who all these people were wandering in and out of the front door…

Rins was a little disappointed to see that the cute blond receptionist wasn’t at the desk, so he hovered around, wondering how to contact Marc. He’d left a message on his friend’s phone but hadn’t heard back, so wasn’t sure how to proceed.

The bustling crowd of people had gone now, so the reception area was deserted. Maybe he should get back to his IT office? He suddenly noticed a man hanging about by the decorative display of Repsol clothing on the wall near the front door. The wall was lit from behind like one of those lightboxes photographers displayed their pictures on, and Rins spent time gazing at the beauty of it. The way the light outlined the clothes like a halo and the effects of the light on the tiled floor of the reception area looked a bit like rainbows.

After a while he realised he mustn’t waste his lunch hour and turned to the other man, who was still posing with his hand on his hip and tossing his hair.

“Hello!” said the IT technician in a jolly way. “Do you know Marc Marquez? Where is he at the moment?” He gave his usual goofy grin at the man, who was dark haired and obviously a model.

“How should I know where Marc is?” replied Iannone haughtily. “I’m not the receptionist or personal assistant to the models.” He gazed into the wall mirror and ran his hand through his hair, adjusting a few strands which looked messy.

“Oh. Well—er—perhaps you could tell him I’m waiting here? My name is Alex Rins, although most people call me Rinsy. I’ve just started working in the IT department—” He carried on talking nervously as he always did.

Iannone glared at the unwelcome visitor. _He looks like a complete dork—what a stupid grin and horrible glasses, why’s he hanging about like this? He must be an obsessed fan pestering Marc. Maybe Marc is trying to get away from this guy and if I tell him he is here, it’ll cause trouble. That could be interesting! Hopefully he’ll be shocked. Or angry? Or frightened?_ Smirking, he glided away towards the young Catalan’s dressing room. He was still outraged by Dovi and Aleix snogging at the Autumn photoshoot, and offended that all the other models seemed to prefer each other and not him. So as usual, he decided to stir things up to make himself feel better.

He reached Marc’s room and rapped on the door, not caring if he was disturbing him and Dani. It would serve them right for being a soppy couple.

Marc opened the door, surprised to see such a visitor.

“Some crazy guy’s come to see you,” announced Iannone as loudly as he could. “He really likes you, are you trying to make Dani jealous? He’s not the right guy for that if so, he’s butt ugly. Or maybe you want an ugly guy? Maybe you can fuck him pretty?”

Marc raised his eyebrows, then looked past the annoying model and his jaw dropped. The Italian turned to see Rins, his eyes wide and his bottom lip trembling. He’d followed Iannone instead of waiting at reception.

The young Catalan’s expression darkened, and he said to Iannone, “Rins isn’t a fan, he’s a very dear old school friend. And I’m not trying to make Dani jealous, I’d never do that.” His voice rose to a shout. “But most of all, he isn’t butt ugly! The only ugly one is you, because ugliness is in your soul and you’re rotting inside!”

He stepped round Iannone and took Rins by the arm. “Come along, dear Rinsy, ignore this jerk and come and have lunch with me and my boyfriend.” He led him affectionately into his dressing room, and Dani stood at the door by now, glaring at the Italian. He held the door open for the other two, and smiled welcomingly at the young IT technician.

Iannone stepped forward, furious. _How dare that stupid kid call me ugly?_ But Marc slammed the door in his face, so he had to step back smartly.

“Well! So rude!” he exclaimed, turning to flounce away. But Dovi, Aleix, Tito, Maverick, Santi, Livio and Shuhei were all standing there, staring at him. They had come to see what the commotion was, and heard the whole conversation.

He stood for a few moments, glaring at them all, then tossed his head and strode off to his dressing room in a temper.


	19. To What Do I Owe The Pleasure?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some discussions and some love.

After work that day, Marc screwed up all his courage and knocked on Livio’s office door. _I have to protect Dani, that’s why I’m doing this. Santi is bullying us, it can’t go on._

“Hello Marc?” said the grey-haired Italian. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Well—er—Livio—er—did you know that Santi is swapping Dani and Aleix over in their departments? So Dani will be in Office wear and Aleix in Activewear with me.”

Livio frowned. “What? No one told me this.”

“Well I thought you should know. And—and—Santi isn’t treating me and Dani very well.” Marc gulped, his stomach full of butterflies. “I came to you because you’re his boss.”

Livio paused, frowning.

“So…are you making an official complaint? What is Santi doing?”

“Santi’s got it in for us because Dani and I are in a relationship. He says that work relationships never go well, he’s had experience of this and so he stops me and Dani seeing each other. He wants us to split up and not see each other in work and he told us not to see each other after work either. It’s not fair! He’s prejudiced for some reason and is taking it out on us! He—”

“Stop, stop! Hold on. So Santi is stopping you and Dani having a relationship because of his bad experience?” Now Livio’s stomach was churning. _It is as I feared. What happened between me and Santi twenty years ago is coming back to haunt us. I’d hoped it was dead and buried and Santi had accepted it, but it seems not. What can I do? I can’t let him take his anger out on some innocent young guys._

“What should I do, Livio?” Marc’s voice made the older man jump and he realised he’d been staring out of the window for a long time.

“Nothing. You don’t need to do anything, Marc. I need to sort it out myself.”

***

Dovi invited Aleix for dinner on Saturday because Sara was on holiday with her mother—he thought it was too soon for her to meet his new boyfriend so he took the chance to show Aleix where he lived while she wasn’t around.

They went home from work together, Aleix following Dovi in their cars to the colourful residential area near the beach. Each block of apartments was painted a different hue—peach, lime, lemon, sky blue, mulberry—and each block was a different size and shape, as if they had just sprung up individually without noticing the others.

“Come in,” said the Italian, ushering his guest in through the dark wooden door into a hall with much lighter coloured wooden flooring. He hung their coats on some plain metal hooks screwed into the melon coloured wall. 

“What a nice warm colour that is.” Aleix peered at the wall, then became aware of a pink glow coming from a nearby room which had its door open a few centimetres. He edged towards it curiously and Dovi put a hand on his arm.

“That’s Sara’s bedroom, but you can take a peek if you want?”

“Okay, I love interiors.” The Catalan model peered round the door to see a room painted pale pink with a fluffy white carpet, floral curtains in a darker pink and a bed with a twirly, fairy tale white metal frame and a white duvet. On the pink wall were gold letters spelling out SARA, with a decorative bird perched on each letter. A doll’s house sat on a pink chest of drawers underneath the letters, with a bookshelf next to it. A silver haired rocking horse stood by the window, looking cheekily at the two men.

“Oh my god!!” exclaimed Aleix, clasping his hands. “That is so cute! If I ever have a daughter, that’s exactly how I’d decorate her room!”

Dovi smiled fondly at him. “I’ve cooked dinner for us if you can tear yourself away?”

“Oh, what is it? You know I’ll eat anything, I hope you didn’t go to any trouble.”

“I didn’t know what you’d like so I thought a stew would be best. It’s been cooking for four hours so should be nice and tender.”

Aleix beamed, and followed him towards the kitchen, from where the smells of roast beef, onion, garlic and red wine were emanating. As he got closer, the subtler aromas of thyme, rosemary, mushroom and tomato joined the others. His mouth was watering as he entered the kitchen, which was like going into a warm, fragrant oven.

“Oh it is hot in here, I better open a window.” Dovi climbed onto a chair to lean over the sink and push open the fanlight, giving Aleix a lovely view of his bum in tight fitting jeans and tanned skin peeping out as his jumper rode up his back. 

Smirking, the younger man looked round the neat kitchen. It was mainly a light caramel colour with hazel brown wood surfaces and a breakfast bar, then the walls were half panelled with wood up to a rail with hooks on carrying pans and decorative stars. The lighting was subdued, with little spotlights in some corners, candles in jars on shelves, and a line of yellow fairy lights in what would have been the darkest corner. It was enchanting, like a magic kitchen.

He turned to the fridge to see it was covered in Sara’s drawings and paintings, mostly of people labelled Papa and Mama and someone called Christian, presumably Sara’s stepfather. He went to look more closely and saw a list titled, _Food Sara Likes_ with some items written in a child’s handwriting and some in an adult’s. He was examining this when a voice said,

“So do you like my kitchen?” Dovi was smiling in amusement at him and Aleix suddenly felt shy and young. He wasn’t a father, he hadn’t been through all the life experience the Italian had. What if he was too childish for this relationship?

But his boyfriend stepped forward and hugged him, then pointed to the breakfast bar. “If I dish up, can you set the table?”

And just like that, the awkward moment was gone, and they were chatting away like a proper couple. Dovi took some rustic Italian rolls from the bread bin and put them on a plate, then served up the stew into bowls, the meat, gravy and vegetables steaming intensely and giving him an unexpected facial.

“This will do wonders for my skin,” he laughed, putting the bowls on the surface while Aleix gazed adoringly at him. “What?”

“I’m just so lucky,” sighed the Catalan. “What a lovely evening already.”

“It’s hardly started yet.” Dovi winked as mischievously as he could and they both burst into giggles.

***

After they’d finished the delicious meal and red wine, and both felt they couldn’t eat or drink another thing, Dovi asked, “so apart from this, what food do you like?”

Aleix, even though he was full, was still able to launch into a description of the vegetables, meats, fish, cheese and nut dishes, and of course the desserts, which he enjoyed. He got so carried away he didn’t notice that Dovi was writing on a piece of paper until he’d finished speaking.

“What are you writing?” he enquired, and squinted at the paper, as it was hard to see in the subdued lighting. He gasped when he read out, _Food Aleix Likes_ which was a list of items he’d just described.

Dovi blushed like a tomato. “Hope you don’t mind but I like to know what people like to eat. For when they come to visit.”

“Mind? Of course I don’t!” Aleix hopped off his kitchen stool, took a step round the breakfast bar and swept the Italian up in his arms, kissing him until they nearly fell onto the floor. 

“I think we should watch a DVD or two to let our dinners go down,” gasped the tall model after they’d paused for breath.

“Oh yes, yes,” agreed Dovi, leading him to the lounge.

This room was also painted in warm caramel tones with candles in jars and little spotlights in corners. Aleix again admired the decoration as he was led to the L shaped cream sofa and pushed gently down on it. It was so soft and comfortable that he sank into it as his boyfriend fussed around lighting the candles and getting the DVD player ready. 

“I’ve brought four movies,” said the guest, pulling out the discs from his bag. “An indie about an eccentric family, which is probably like my family. A rom com where a woman falls in love with her bank manager. An action movie about a spy, and a slapstick comedy about two stupid guys left in charge of theme park. Which one do you fancy?”

“Er…how about the comedy?” 

Aleix frisbeed the disc over to his host, who put it in the player, then sat down next to him. They gazed at each other, grinning, then cuddled up and Dovi kissed him on the lips.

***

About two hours later, the end credits of the movie blasted out, and the couple sat up in surprise.

“What was that about?” asked Aleix. His hair was sticking out in all directions, his t-shirt half off, his companion was in the same condition and they were giggling naughtily.

“Er…two guys in a theme park?”

“So, one more DVD before…?”

“Before what?” The Italian tried to look innocent.

“I thought you’d invited me round to have your wicked way with me?” The tall model also tried to look innocent, but spoilt it by adding, “I’ll be very disappointed if you haven’t.”

“I think we need one more DVD, I still feel too fat.”

“You are never fat, you always look gorgeous. Especially when you blush like that.” Aleix fluttered his eyelashes brazenly so Dovi hurried to the DVD player and shoved in the first disc he found, then rushed back to jump on his boyfriend.

***

The same Saturday evening, Tito rang the doorbell of his family home with one hand, clutching Maverick with the other.

“It’ll be alright, it’s your dad and brother. They love you,” said the young model, squeezing his hand in return.

“Tito! My dear son!” said his father, flinging open the door. “Why didn’t you use your key?”

“Oh! Well, I thought—as this is a formal visit, I’d—er—”

“What do you mean, a formal visit? Come along inside out of the cold.” Esteban Rabat ushered the couple into the lounge.

“This is Maverick, my boyfriend, I wanted to introduce you,” gabbled Tito, pulling him forward awkwardly. He was no good at subtlety. 

His father smiled welcomingly, and Maverick stepped up. “How nice to meet you,” he said, shaking hands with the older man.

“Nice to meet you too, at last,” said Esteban.

Then Tito’s little brother Jordi peeked round his father, so Maverick shook his hand too.

“Come in, both of you,” continued Esteban, so the couple shuffled into the lounge and sat down nervously on the sofa.

“We thought you’d disappeared off the face of the earth, Tito. You must know you’re always welcome here, it’s so nice to see you.”

“Thank you,” said Maverick, sensing Tito was trying to think of what to say. “I’m sorry we haven’t been to visit before.”

He looked round at the lounge. The walls were painted a pale tangerine colour, giving the room a warm air, especially as the floor was covered in faded rugs. All the furniture was obviously old and well loved, the faded caramel sofa cushions had lost their plumpness, the armchairs had a few dents in their frames, but the whole room looked relaxed and hospitable. Mismatching lamps, piles of books and out of place ornaments gave it a homely air, and Maverick relaxed. His own parents’ house was kept spick and span at all times—his mother employed a cleaner and he was never allowed to leave his shoes or bags or shopping anywhere, it was whisked away in an instant.

“What a lovely room,” he said. “Very cosy and welcoming.”

The two Rabats beamed at him.

“We need your advice, Papa,” blurted Tito.

Jordi giggled cheekily.

“Oh yes, what about?” asked Esteban, ignoring his younger son. He leant forward expectantly.

“Well…”

Maverick patted his boyfriend’s knee encouragingly and Jordi shrieked, “ew!!”

“Well,” Tito began. “Maverick’s parents don’t approve of us because he’s five years younger than me and they want to split us up. They even talked of reporting me to the police because they say I’m holding him hostage at Repsol against his will, like a kidnapper and I’m worried I’ll go to jail even though it’s not illegal. Shuhei asked them if they’d let him stay at his house with his wife so we wouldn’t be living in the office, but they refused and I don’t know what to do now.” He stopped, out of breath.

Esteban and Jordi stared at him, wearing twin frowns on their faces. “What?” they said in unison.

After a few moments of incomprehension, the oldest Rabat said, “so you’re staying in an office? Maverick’s parents want you arrested? Whose house might you go and stay at?”

“Yes, Mav’s parents threw him out when they knew he was my boyfriend, so we moved into his dressing room at the Repsol office.”

“What? I thought you were staying at Maverick’s house with him?”

“No. Sorry Papa, I mislead you. I wanted to be independent and work it out myself, but we can’t anymore. It’s hard being independent.”

Maverick nodded sadly.

“Of course, my dear son. You’re only twenty-two, you haven’t lived away from home before. And you, Maverick, must be—what—seventeen? How long have you been living together?”

“A few months.” Tito ran his fingers through his blond hair.

“I’m a little shocked that I didn’t know, but it doesn’t matter now. How can I help?”

“Can you talk to the Viñales and make them see I’m not a kidnapper?”

“They know that, Tito, they’re just being shits.” The young model clenched his fist. “They don’t like me being gay, remember?”

“I can do that, but what would happen afterwards?” asked Esteban. “Would you come back to live at home with us?”

“No!” moaned Jordi. “Does he have to? He takes up so much room.”

“Be quiet Jordi, this isn’t the time. So Tito, what do you want to do? What would be your ideal outcome?”

“Ideally…I’d like to...be able to see Maverick when I wanted but not for us to be alone at the office. It’s scary and we want to relax.”

“Of course you’re welcome to both live here for a while but as you know all our bedrooms are tiny and we don’t have a spare room.”

“What if we came for weekends? The office is lonelier then.”

“Please do! We’d love to have you, wouldn’t we Jordi? Jordi?”

The youngest Rabat was staring at the floor sulkily. “Oh alright. Only if you’re not soppy though. I hate soppy couples.”

“Well I’m not soppy,” said Maverick proudly. “I bet I could beat you on MotoGP 17, have you got that?”

Jordi’s eyes widened. “Yes, I got it for my birthday, Papa and Tito saved up for it. I bet you can’t beat me, I’ve played and played for hours.”

“We’ll see. I’m pretty good too.” Maverick grinned.

“Then its settled,” said Esteban. “You two come and stay every weekend. It’ll be so nice to have more people living here. I often feel lonely of an evening when Jordi’s gone to bed.”

***

Dovi gazed down at Aleix, whose head was flung back in pleasure, exposing his beautiful neck. His tanned skin was flushed with excitement and he was digging his nails into the sheet. Dovi liked to see his usually well-groomed boyfriend all worked up and impatient because of him. He paused for a moment with his thrusting and swayed his hips a little, making Aleix moan in frustration.

“Teasing me!” he gasped, hardly able to speak. He clawed at Dovi’s back and wrapped his legs tighter round him, trying to pull him in deeper.

“Yeah.” The Italian grinned, his tongue hanging out like a wolf’s, trying his best to make himself last as long as he could.

Aleix glared, arching towards him, trying to push down on his cock but with little success.

“Are you ready, _cucciolo?”_ breathed the Italian, struggling to keep control.

“Yes! Yes, for fuck’s sake!”

Dovi growled and thrust so hard that Aleix’s head hit the headboard, so he put his hands against it and braced himself. The Italian only paused for a second then continued, pushing into the tight space which gripped his cock like a vice, the heat of Aleix sending his head into a spin and he couldn’t think of anything but thrusting into him and not stopping. The tall model’s tanned, perfect body arched towards him more and more, he shouted with pleasure, encouraging him with words sometimes and leaving no doubt that he was loving this. Dovi was mesmerized with the rhythm and the way he was being squeezed tighter and tighter, his body rubbing against Aleix’s cock, which throbbed hotly. The couple moved together faster and faster, muscles rubbing and flexing, their hearts pounding. Dovi couldn’t hold on any longer and let go, coming inside Aleix like a shockwave, pressing against him, the heat of their bodies feeling like they were on fire. The Catalan suddenly jolted and hot stickiness gushed between them, and they shuddered together and panted together and slowly calmed down together.

After a little while of holding each other, unwilling to separate, they finally had to move apart and curled up together, chests still heaving.

“Well that’s never happened before,” mumbled the Italian, nuzzling his boyfriend’s neck.

“What?”

“I’ve never come exactly at the same moment as my boyfriend.”

“Well…I’m unique,” said Aleix smugly, stroking his hair. “I’m a special case.”

“Mm…you are.” Dovi kissed him sloppily, then they wrapped their arms round each other happily and settled down into the cosy bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I said I'd post a chapter a week as Christmas is fast approaching, and I wanted Dovi to have some love before the big showdown this weekend. I get superstitious about posting chapters around race time :s
> 
> _cucciolo_ = puppy.


	20. I’m Not Here As Your Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mysteries are resolved!

At work on Monday, Iannone was sulking in his dressing room. No one had spoken to him since the incident with Marc’s friend, and even the managers had been abrupt with him.

But then there was a brisk knock on his door, which made him jump. _Maybe these people have got over their stupid indignation at last._ He strode proudly to the door and when he opened it, Dovi stood there, looking up at him.

“Ah Dovi, my friend! Come in!” said the taller Italian, holding the door open to usher him in. He knew people couldn’t keep away from him for too long.

“I’m not here as your friend.” The slight model stepped in and shut the door. “I’m here to tell you that you need to apologise to Alex Rins, the young friend of Marc. He didn’t deserve your insults, he deserves an apology!” He folded his arms determinedly.

“But—but—Marc insulted ME! He should apologise to me first! I’m not apologising to Rins until then!” Iannone tossed his head dramatically.

“Are you serious?? Marc was just defending his dear friend! YOU were rude for no reason, but Marc was protecting Rins! YOU need to apologise.” Dovi had meant to keep calm but his colleague was so selfish and egotistical it drove him mad!

“I will not! I am too important to go round apologising to nerds like that!”

Dovi glared at him, and put on his Dad voice. “If you don’t apologise to Rins, your punishment will be that neither I nor anyone else in this department will ever speak to you again. You’ll be lonely and disliked, and you thrive off attention, so you won’t like that one bit.” Of course he’d never punish Sara like that, but being a parent had given him authority.

Iannone tossed his head again and avoided his colleague’s eyes. He mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said, alright then. If it’ll keep people happy. I know everyone in this department looks to me for direction, so I’ll give them what they want.”

Dovi suppressed a smile at the great delusion his fellow Occasion wear model was under. “See that you do. Young Rins didn’t deserve your nasty comments. I know you and Marc don’t get on, but you shouldn’t use other people as ammunition to hurt each other.”

“Okay then. I’ll go and speak to him when I’ve got a minute.”

“Good. See you later.” Dovi smiled now and patted him on the shoulder.

***

“Santi?” Livio pushed his way through the door of the Catalan manager’s office before he could jump up and shut it. “We need to talk.” He’d spent the weekend thinking about how he could tackle his colleague about Marc’s accusations and finally felt ready.

“What about?”

“You’re swapping Dani with Aleix, which I didn’t authorise, but more than that, you are angry and upset all the time and I want to know why.” The grey-haired Italian stood with hands on hips, in front of his colleague who was seated behind the desk.

Santi stared at him for a long time, then sighed. “Well, okay, I’ll tell you if you really want to know!”

Livio nodded.

“I have had to sit back all these years and watch you get to the top of the business while you’re living a complete lie. That is the reason.” He continued to stare coldly while Livio fidgeted.

“B-but Santi, it hasn’t been a complete lie, not the last few years anyway,” he mumbled.

“So that’s okay then, is it? For you to lie for years and get to the top whereas I was honest and only got boring, menial jobs?”

“Well THIS isn’t a boring, menial job, is it? Head of Active wear? I specially chose you to work here when Repsol took over the Honda fashion house. I could have employed anyone to do that job, but I chose you!”

“Oh gee thanks!” Santi rolled his eyes. “It’s the least I deserve after how you treated me!” He jumped up and paced the floor, ending up by the window.

Livio mumbled something.

“What?”

“I said, at least I didn’t just disappear. At least I told you.”

“By fax, Livio! You dumped me BY FAX!” He glared at the Italian. “Then I didn’t see you again til you gave me this job. Which I love but that’s not the point!” He was red in the face now, arms folded and facing his adversary.

The Italian mumbled something again.

“I thought we were really happy, but you just sent a fax and never spoke to me again then married Giulia. You were the golden couple of fashion but funny you never had any children, isn’t it? And you got divorced after ten years, and became the most popular bachelor ever since? Whereas good old Santi was honest! I admitted I liked men, when people became more open minded, but still I never soared to the heights that you did! It was too late by then, I was already _contaminated!_ People didn’t want an openly gay man on their staff, not for years and years. Especially not one who wears smocks like I do! All because you preferred to hide behind the curtain of being normal and getting married like a good little boy!” He stared at Livio, his eyes burning with anger, his heart pounding like he’d been running.

“I—I had to keep us secret, Santi, it was for our—your—safety,” pleaded the Italian, wringing his hands.

“That is crap!” shouted the Catalan, shaking his fist. “I know it was unpopular to be gay but for fucks sake! You could have treated me better! How do you think I felt, getting A FAX ending our relationship? You could have at least told me to my face!”

“I couldn’t! People were watching us, they were spying—” Livio felt his own temper rising.

“That didn’t stop you seducing me whenever you wanted! I was twenty, I thought you were this wonderful man who I’d live happily ever after with! But you were just using me! I should sue you for assault, you’re ten years older than me!”

“Santi! That is not fair! YOU came onto me remember! I was very wary, have you forgotten? It didn’t happen as you say!”

They glared at each other, shaking with anger and exasperation, fists clenched.

“Get out of my office!” shouted Santi, pointing towards the door as if Livio didn’t know where it was. “Get out, get out, get out!”

The grey haired Italian turned on his heel and stormed out with as much dignity as he could muster. 

He noticed Marc and Dani lurking in a corner, pretending they weren’t eavesdropping, so he stopped next to them.

“I know you heard that, it would be hard not to. I’ve just made it worse! Thanks for nothing Marc!” He stamped off, looking rather like Iannone in his worst mood, tossing his head and glaring at everyone who dared get in his way.

As he strode along, he thought deeply about what just happened. _I nearly told Santi the real reason I dumped him, which I was advised not to do. Maybe I should though. Maybe it’s time to tell him._

“So that went well,” said Dani to Marc, his shoulders slumping.

“Don’t worry, my dearest love. I have a plan.” The young model wore his most devious expression…

***

Tito and Maverick were packing up their belongings, so they could move some of them to the Rabat home next weekend. Tito felt like he was bubbling over like champagne inside—he’d been glad to move away from his family at first, but now the months living in the big, scary Repsol building had taken its toll on him and he’d be glad not to be ‘in charge’ anymore. Especially at the weekends, which were lonely. A few cleaners and security guards worked over those days, but they weren’t interested in chatting, so Maverick and Tito were more or less alone for the whole time until the other staff arrived on Monday morning. The couple went shopping each weekend for food, but it was strange to come ‘home’ to a large, empty office—not welcoming or hospitable at all, it was just them, alone.

He was humming to himself as he packed his clothes into a travel bag, then noticed Maverick wasn’t saying or doing anything. He turned to look at him and realised he was just standing with his back turned, motionless. 

“Have you done all your packing?” Tito asked cheerily but was answered by a sniff. Maverick’s shoulders were shaking a little and the tall blond bounded across the room in one step.

“What’s wrong?” He turned his boyfriend round to look at him and was horrified to see his face was blotchy and his eyes filled with tears.

“My parents don’t want me,” sobbed the young model. “They haven’t even texted to see if I’m okay. All I’ve had is texts from Isaac, who says they are very busy.” He was trying not to cry more, biting his lip and keeping his eyes lowered. “I’m just getting passed around like a parcel, no one wants me!”

“Well _I_ want you!” Tito hugged him, shocked, and sat them down on the sofa-bed, pulling Maverick onto his lap. _He’s been so strong! No wonder he’s faltering now. How selfish I’ve been, not asking how he felt! I must do better!_ He didn’t know what to say, so just hugged him tightly, stroking his hair.

He’d just started to form a sentence, when there was a knock at the door and Aleix burst in.

“Do you want to—” He stopped, and glared at Tito. “What have you done to Maverick? Why’s he crying?” He stamped up to the couple, and Tito braced himself, unsure what was going to happen, but luckily, Dovi hurried into the room after him and grabbed him by the arm.

“Hold on! Let them explain!” he instructed, restraining the angry model.

“Maverick is upset because he thinks his parents don’t want him,” said Tito, anger starting to build up inside him. “I’m going to go to their house and confront them! They haven’t even texted him!” He still hugged his boyfriend tightly.

“Is that a good idea?” asked the calm Dovi.

“Yes! Look at him. What sort of parents do this to their child?”

“It’s a great idea!” agreed Aleix.

“If I catch the bus at 10.48, I can be there in an hour,” Tito was fuming now.

“The bus? You can’t go on the bus! I’ll drive you there.” The Catalan model tried to shake Dovi off his arm but couldn’t. 

“Calm down, you two,” said the Italian. “I think it would be best if _I_ took Tito to see Maverick’s parents. You can stay here and keep Mav company, as you’re his best friend.” He smiled up at Aleix, who smiled back, feeling calmer already. 

Maverick was blushing in Tito’s arms, embarrassed to be the centre of attention. “I’d like that, Aleix,” he mumbled.

“Right, that is what we’ll do!” He sat down next to the couple and Maverick slid off Tito’s lap as his boyfriend stood up. Then Aleix’s eyes lit up. “We could go shopping. We could go and annoy that sofa salesman again, what was his name?”

The young model giggled. “We could!”

Dovi led Tito out of the room towards reception. “Can you get someone to cover your job for a couple of hours?”

Luckily, the amenable Nicco Antonelli was passing by so he agreed to do the favour for Tito.

“You owe me, I’m always doing this for you,” he said with a smile. Actually he was pleased to get reception work, it looked good on his CV.

The two models walked towards the front door, Tito trying to hurry, Dovi trying to calm him down.

“Where do the Viñales live?” asked the Italian.

“If we go out of the city towards the suburbs…” They went through the front door towards the car park.

***

Iannone decided the time was right to go and apologise to Rins. He strode downstairs to the IT department and wandered through it, getting many admiring looks, until he found Marc’s friend.

“Good morning,” he said grandly, as Rins tapped away on his keyboard, frowning at the screen. “I’ve come to apologise. I’m sorry that you heard what I said to Marc about you.” He waited, standing tall, for the acceptance which no doubt would come.

“Is that it?” said the young IT technician, glancing at the Italian for a millisecond.

“Yes, that is my apology.”

“So, you’re not sorry for _what_ you said? Just sorry that _I overheard you saying it?_ Nice.” Rins turned the computer screen so his back was towards his unwelcome visitor.

“No! I—er—well, I’m sorry—er—”

“I may not have a pretty face like you, but at least I have a brain, which you don’t.” He threw this comment over his shoulder, all the while working on his programming,

“I have a brain!” exclaimed Iannone, so loudly that some other IT staff stared at him.

“Shush! You’re disturbing their work.” 

“What’s that you’re doing? I know about computers.” To prove he did indeed have a brain, the tall Italian leant over to peer at the screen and pressed a button on the keyboard.

“Don’t touch it, you idiot!” snapped Rins. “Now I’ll have to start my formatting all over again. Go away and leave me alone.”

“But do you accept my apology? The other models won’t talk to me until I apologise, so you have to accept it!”

“Oh, I see! You don’t care that you insulted me, you’re just worried about your popularity! Well fine then. If it gets you out of my hair, yes, I accept. Now go back to your work while I do mine.” He hunched over his keyboard with a sigh, so the Italian tossed his head and stalked out.

He went to the gentlemen’s bathroom to restyle his hair—doing that always made him feel better. But his torment wasn’t yet over, because when he finally went out and strode towards his room, the first people he saw were Nicco, Marc and Rins, huddled by Tito’s computer in reception. Tito wasn’t there, but the other two seemed to be working on the device. Rins was sitting at the chair tapping on the keyboard, Marc perching on the desk next to him while Nicco was filing some papers in the nearby cabinet. When the trio saw Iannone, they looked at each other and burst into giggles as he walked by.

“Yes, I re-styled my hair,” exclaimed the tall model. “What is wrong with that?”

The other three stared at him, then burst out laughing again as he tutted and breezed past them. He distinctly heard Rins say, “no brain,” Marc laughing at his loudest volume and Nicco giggling too.

 _They are so childish. They need to grow up._ Iannone stormed into his dressing room and slammed the door.

***

Instead of going out shopping, Aleix decided to take Maverick to the Repsol café, which was less stressful than leaving the building. He had a little brother and sister and knew causing the least stress the better when they were upset. Maverick wasn’t as young as them, but he still thought of him as a little brother.

“We’ll have a big lunch and I’m paying,” he said to the younger model, so they ordered two burgers with all the trimmings, accompanied by large salads to make themselves feel less like they were cheating on their model diets. “Tell Uncle Aleix all about it,” he said as they sat down at the window.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Just say why you’re upset.”

“Well it’s just that—I know my dad doesn’t give a shit about me but my mum! Why hasn’t my mum contacted me? Does she think the same as him?”

“What, they think that being gay is bad? I hope not! What parent would do that?”

“Maybe she is under his spell.”

“I’m sorry if she is. I’m so lucky, my parents don’t mind what I do, they’ve always been supportive.”

“You are. Tito said his parents always were, but he had neighbours who insulted him.”

“That sounds awful!”

“Yes but he said he shut them up so they don’t bother him now.”

“How did he do that?”

“He won’t tell me.”

“And Dovi said he had homophobic neighbours too for a while and Sara’s mother’s family were like that, but she stuck up for him and they leave him alone now. There are so many idiots in the world.”

The two friends chomped on their burgers for a while, thinking about the idiots.

“I just wish my mum would text me!” blurted Maverick, spitting out a bit of burger bun in his annoyance. “And tell me what’s going on!”

“I’m sure Tito and Dovi will sort it out,” soothed Aleix, stroking his arm. “Dovi can calm _anyone_ down, even me.”

“Ooh! That sounds serious. Have you met his daughter yet?” The youngest model was glad to think of a different subject to take his mind off his parents.

“Not yet. But hopefully…one day…”

***

“So, wanna talk about it?” asked Dovi as he drove along following Tito’s directions, towards the suburb where the Viñales parents lived.

“No—I mean—er—yes—well, Maverick’s so upset, and I feel like a shit boyfriend not looking after him better,” began the blond. “He’s so young and he’s been so brave, leaving his parents and shacking up with me at that office. It’s too big and scary for us, we’re going to live at my dad’s house at the weekends when the office is deserted. But anyway, I need to sort this out with his parents, they can’t just abandon him like this.”

Dovi nodded. “I’m sure there’s another reason, not just his mother taking his father’s side.”

“I’ve no idea. I don’t even know what to say when I get there. Mav’s dad gets angry about everything, so I don’t want to give him an excuse. The prick!” Tito was red in the face with anger.

“Listen to me. Calm down,” instructed the Italian. “Be calm and you’ll get a better outcome to the discussion.”

“Okay.” Tito took a deep breath.

They both paused to think for a while as the car drove through the outskirts of the city, the houses and gardens becoming more leafy and luxuriant.

“So. What are you going to say?”

“I'll just state the facts—how Maverick feels and ask what they are going to do about it.”

“That’s good. Just try not to get angry.”

“Okay.”

“So when we get there, what should I do? Shall I come in with you or not?” 

“Er—maybe better wait in the car? I’ll signal you if I need you.”

“Right, I’ll be ready.”

“Oh we’re here now, on the left.” He pointed, and Dovi pulled in and put on the handbrake.

Tito jumped out and strode up the pebbled path to the front door , then rang the doorbell firmly.

Angel Viñales answered. “You!” he exclaimed. “What do you want?” His face was pale and he wore a messy beard, unlike his previous neat appearance. 

Tito raised an eyebrow and began, “Maverick is crying and upset because he thinks you hate him. You haven’t even come to visit him and now we are moving out of the office to my family home. Do you even care?”

Angel stared in surprise but before he could answer, his wife appeared behind him. She too looked pale, her hair was straggly and unwashed, and there were dark circles under her eyes. Tito was shocked by how unkempt she looked.

“My baby is crying?” she said, wringing her hands.

“Yes, so why haven’t you contacted him?” The tall blond folded his arms.

“I’m so sorry, my mother is very ill and at home here with us, I’m nursing her.” 

Angel put his arms round her from the side and glared at the visitor. “It’s very serious,” he said, “and Luciana and I have been looking after her day and night.

“Oh, I—er—” Before Tito could form a sentence, Luciana burst into tears. The two men fidgeted, not sure what to do, but then Tito had an idea, so beckoned Dovi with a large wave of his arm.

The Italian model hurried up the path, his footsteps crunching in the pebbles.

“What’s happened?” he asked, seeing the crying woman.

“My mother is very ill,” sobbed Luciana, and fell into the surprised Dovi’s arms as Angel and Tito exchanged glances of shared helplessness.

“There, there,” said the Italian, patting her on the back. “Perhaps you’d like to come and visit your son at the Repsol offices? He and Tito haven’t moved out yet.”

She nodded into his shoulder.

“I’m sure you can take care of your mother in law for a few hours?” said Tito to Angel, who nodded.

“She is asleep, so hopefully won’t notice Luciana’s even away,” said the older man.

Dovi led Maverick’s mother down the garden to his car.

“What is wrong with your mother in law?” asked Tito in a hushed voice.

“It’s cancer I’m afraid,” said Angel sadly. “She only has a few months to live.”

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry. Should I tell Maverick?”

“Would you mind? I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it! I’m such a coward!” he suddenly blurted, obviously tired and stressed.

Tito patted his arm. “Well…I can tell him for you. Should I bring him to visit his grandmother?”

“Yes, as soon as possible.” The previously irate man sagged in the doorway, looking grey in the face, and Tito remembered his own mother’s death. He gulped and hastily retreated, not wanting to upset himself too—that would just make things worse.

“I’ll keep in touch and let you know.” The tall blond shook hands with Angel Viñales and strode towards the car, where Dovi was helping Luciana to get in.

“Just let me make a phone call,” said Dovi as the other two got into the car. He pressed phone buttons, and said, “Hey, it’s me, can you do me a favour?” He walked up the street a little, so they couldn’t hear his conversation.

“Thank you for coming,” said Luciana to Tito. “It’s been so hectic at home, I just hoped Maverick was safe with you and Isaac kept telling me he was, so I’ve been a very bad mother—”

“No, you haven’t,” he said kindly. “We just didn’t know the situation. You and Mav can sort it out today.”

“How funny, we’ve always called him his full name, Maverick,” she said. “Mav is a cute nickname.”

“All sorted,” said Dovi, jumping back into the car. “Let’s go back to Repsol.”

***

When the trio returned to the office, they hurried up to the reception desk. Tito was surprised not to be met by an angry trio of managers, demanding to know where he had been. He got his phone out, wondering where his boyfriend would be.

Then Aleix bustled up, followed by Maverick.

“Mama?” said the youngest model, obviously shocked by her appearance. She held out her arms, he ran into them and they hugged tightly.

Dovi took Aleix by the arm. “Did you sort out the things I asked?”

The tall model beamed. “Yes, it’s all ready, come this way.” He led the group of Tito, Dovi, Maverick and his mother towards the couple’s dressing room. The two Viñales walked awkwardly as they were still hugging and had to be guided by Dovi and Aleix.

Tito peered round the door to see an immaculate room, with a table in the centre covered in a large square of offcut red velvet, and set for teatime with ham, chorizo and cheese sandwiches, sweet pastries and churros, with a pot of coffee.

“Who set all this up?” he asked in surprise.

Aleix swelled with pride. “Maverick and I cleaned the room, and I sent Dani and Marc out to buy the food.”

“He had me running round like a servant,” Maverick smiled, still cuddling his mother as he lead her into his dressing room.

Dani and Marc appeared behind Aleix, beaming like Santa’s elves at Christmas. 

“Come on,” said Dovi to them all. “Let’s leave Tito, Mav and his mum to have tea.” He took Aleix’s hand. “That was really well done, thanks for arranging all that,” he said admiringly, looking up at him with a grin.

“I like to do things thoroughly,” said the tall model, and they hurried off to his dressing room, leaving Dani and Marc to look smugly at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve no idea if Santi is Catalan or not, I’m just assuming he is.
> 
> This is a huge chapter because I want to move them all along a bit and get to some conclusions.


	21. War and Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Confrontations, some funny, some not.

“So, Mama, why didn’t you tell me about Grandma?” asked Maverick after he’d spent enough time on pleasantries.

“I didn’t want to worry you, darling. It’s so stressful, and sad, looking after her. I’m exhausted.”

“Supposing she died, and I never knew? What would you tell me then?”

“I d—didn’t think that far ahead. I’ve been so tired looking after her, and—and she’s my mother.” Luciana’s eyes filled with tears.

Tito patted her arm.

“When can I see her?” asked Maverick.

“Anytime. It’s just that—your father thought—you made it clear you were living with your boyfriend now, independent, so we should wait for you to call us.”

“I’m the son! You and Papa have to be the adults and make the first move!”

“I’m sorry, darling, I should be stronger. I fight so much with him, he is always ranting and raving about something or other He is still going on about how it’s not right for two men to be together—”

“I thought you were talking him into accepting us? He lives in the stone age, he’s a barbarian!”

“I have been trying! I’ve been working away at him and he is getting there. My mother’s illness is making him realise love is more important than prejudice.”

“That’s an important lesson! I hope he learns it!”

“Well if he doesn’t want to lose you—and me—he’d better learn it.”

“What do you mean _lose you_?”

“I’m sorry darling.” She sighed heavily and slumped on the sofa. “If I didn’t need him to help with my mother, I’d leave him.”

“WHAT? Leave him?” The young model stared at his mother.

“I’m sorry, I’m too tired to be subtle.”

“But you can’t get divorced!”

“It probably won’t come to that, but I’m so tired of his attitude! All you and Tito are trying to do is live normal, happy lives and he’s complaining and criticising! It’s too much for me when I’ve got my mother to look after!”

“Well I don’t know what else to do, Mama. I keep out of his way and he still isn’t satisfied!”

Mother and son glared at each other, both with tears in their eyes.

Desperate to keep the peace, Tito said quickly, “Maverick and I are going to live with my family at weekends when the offices are quiet and lonely, so we’ll only be here in the week from now on.”

Both Viñales turned to him.

“Oh I’m so glad,” said Luciana. “You’ve made it nice here, but it’s not—it’s not a family home.” 

“My dad is very happy we’re going there,” continued the blond. “He’s a real home-maker so we’ll be comfortable there.”

“That is reassuring. How do you feel about it, darling?” She turned to her son.

“I’m looking forward to it. It can be scary here at the weekend and at night, so we’ll be safer at Tito’s house.”

“Good. I’m glad you are happy to move house again.” 

Tito poured some more coffee for them all.

“I have been trying my best with Angel,” said Luciana after finishing her cup. “I want him to allow you and Tito to come round for tea like I offered, remember, Tito?”

The blond nodded.

“At least he spoke politely to Tito today and that friend of yours, was he called Dove? Such a nice young man.”

“Dovi. His name is Andrea Dovizioso, but we call him Dovi for short,” said Tito.

“So that is something, isn’t it, darling?” She looked at her son. “He’s being polite to your boyfriend and friend, surely that gives us hope?”

Maverick smiled a little, so his mother turned and hugged him.

***

Marc went downstairs to IT as he needed to ask Rins for help with his plan for Santi and Livio. He found his way to his friend’s office but when he got there, he saw someone with blond hair sitting at Rins’ desk. It took Marc a few seconds to realise that it wasn’t someone else—his friend had dyed his hair.

“What’s going on with your hair?” he asked as he bounced up to the desk.

“Oh, you know. Fancied a change. Less boring than the usual brown.”

“Your hair wasn’t boring! But the blond looks good.”

“Thanks. Now, what do you want? I’ve got work to do.”

Marc told him his plan for Livio and Santi while Rins listened in surprise.

“What day do you want this to happen?”

“Well any day, as long as its last thing in the evening, so no one disturbs them.”

“Righto.” The young IT technician clicked away at his computer for a few minutes. “There, it’s done. If anyone finds out I hacked into this, that’s my job over, you know that? I’d be chucked out before I could even breathe.”

“Dearest Rinsy, you are so kind and brave.” Marc flung his arms round him and kissed his cheek, almost knocking off his glasses.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” He smiled.

“Come for lunch with me and Dani today, we’ll spoil you.”

“Okay…that would be nice. As long as you keep that Italian away from me.”

“Dovi? What’s he done? Oh! You mean Iannone. Yes of course.”

***

While Maverick was still chatting to his mother, Tito looked through the proofs for his article he’d written about the Repsol models. Getting an article ready for printing took so long with all the corrections, formatting and finalising, that it was interesting to look back and see how people had all changed since he’d asked the questions. Well, most of them had changed, apart from a certain Italian…

The first question he’d asked was:

_If you won the lottery, what is the first thing you would do?_

Iannone had said he would start a casino and Tito could just imagine him strutting around like a peacock, loving the glamour, the attention he’d get and the fame. In total contrast, Aleix had told him he would start an animal sanctuary for dogs, which fitted with his caring nature. _How jealous I used to be of Aleix and Maverick all those months ago!_ He laughed. Maverick and his mother didn’t notice, as they were reminiscing about Grandma.

Dani and Marc had said more or less the same answer—start a business with their brothers. Dani’s would be a personal trainer business with Eric, Marc’s a fashion company with Alex. It suddenly dawned on Tito why Marc called Alex Rins the IT guy, Rins and not Alex—to avoid confusion with his brother.

And lastly Maverick’s plan would be to buy a tropical island. Tito caught his boyfriend’s eye at this memory and they smiled at each other. Señora Viñales also noticed this exchange and smiled.

Tito turned back to his proofs. 

Question 2. _What would you name the autobiography of your life?_

He imagined a shelf full of books called _Perfection_ by Andrea Iannone, no doubt hardback with gold lettering. _All You Need Is Love_ by Aleix Espargaro, probably brightly coloured, like him. _Laughter is the Best Medicine_ by Marc Marquez—a light hearted read full of Marc’s adventures. _Don’t Stop Believing_ , by Andrea Dovizioso. Dovi was so hopeful and calm, he’d been so helpful when he drove Tito to the Viñales house and soothed Maverick’s parents. Tito had a new respect for the quiet Italian. 

_Good Things Come in Small Packages_ by Dani Pedrosa—that would be a small, cute but chunky book, full of wisdom, Tito thought. And lastly, _Highway to the Danger Zone_ , by Maverick Viñales. Obviously a reference to Top Gun. Tito looked surreptitiously at Señora Viñales—she always had something on her connected to that movie. Today it was aviator sunglasses with the leg tucked into her blouse, even though it was late autumn.

The funniest question was number 3: 

_What’s your favourite body part?_

It hadn’t been easy for Iannone to choose. Tito smirked, thinking of how he and Maverick had tried to suppress their giggles at Iannone’s unconcealed admiration of himself. And Marc’s answer had been: Dani’s chest! The trio had giggled a lot at this, then Marc said if he couldn’t say that, it was his hair. Dovi had chosen his arms, Dani his sherry brown eyes, and Maverick, his chest.

Tito tried to remember that far back to a time when he hadn’t seen Maverick’s chest. _What was my life like before we got together? It’s a blank—surely that’s a good sign our relationship will last?_

And the last question: 

_What is something you learned in the last week?_

Another one to show how different life had been back then! Iannone had shown his suppleness in bending backwards and Tito giggled at this memory. Maverick had been forced to leave the room to hide his laughter.

“What’s so funny?” asked the man in question, pretending to glare.

“Oh nothing. Just that article I wrote, I’ll show you later.”

His boyfriend looked mystified, so Tito turned back to his proofs. Aleix had said he’d learned some people would defend him when he least expected it. _Now I know that it was a reference to Dovi. How romantic._ Tito smiled. 

Marc had said he’d realised he could conquer his fear of water after all. Dovi had said he’d learned to be brave and stand up for someone being wrongly accused. That was definitely referring to Aleix. And Dani had said he’d learned that Marc liked him and now they were a couple. Tito remembered that moment—the little model’s eyes had shone, and he’d almost melted in the chair, overcome with happiness. Tito and Maverick had almost done the same with their joy for their friends.

The best answer had been last. Maverick had said he’d learned in the last week that Tito should be doing journalism, not reception work. The blond hadn’t known what to say at this compliment and blushed to the roots of his hair.

 _What happy memories._ Tito smiled and typed a reply to the email that all corrections were accepted.

“So Tito,” said Maverick. “I’ll visit Grandma after work on Friday, do you want to come too? Then we can go on to your dad’s house.”

***

When Rins ventured up to the models’ floor at lunch time, the first person he saw was Iannone, sitting in reception reading the largest, fattest book he’d ever seen. The young technician stopped in surprise and read the title _War and Peace_. The tall Italian was wearing large round glasses, looking very studious.

Rins raised his eyebrows at the sight, so far that his own glasses nearly fell off, and he had to rescue them. He tried to tiptoe past the reading man without disturbing him, but he was unsuccessful.

Iannone said loudly, “I’m really enjoying this book, it’s a skillful examination of the class system in nineteenth century Russia.”

The young IT technician exchanged glances with Tito who was sitting at reception as usual, and they both burst into giggles.

“Where did you read that phrase?” asked the newly blond one. “From some revision summary notes?” The pair continued giggling at the frowning Italian.

“I didn’t. I thought of it myself.” Iannone tossed his head proudly. “I’m always reading books like these.”

“O…K…Well I studied that book at school and I totally disagree. It’s a profound critique of the futility of war.”

“I did that book at school too,” said Tito. “I agree with you, plus of course there is the theme of love saving people’s souls.”

“Oh yes,” replied Rins, ignoring the fuming Italian behind him. “And I liked the fact that one of the main characters is very intelligent, proving that intelligence is the thing that saves people, not how beautiful they are.”

Both of them were laughing now, knowing they were irritating the tall model.

“Be quiet,” said Iannone after a thinking for a while. “You’re interrupting my reading.” He turned away and nearly dropped the huge volume on his foot, but then turned back to Rins in surprise. “Why have you dyed your hair?”

“Oh! Er—um—I just felt like it…” Rins hurried away towards Marc’s dressing room. He didn’t want the annoying Italian to know the real reason.


	22. Calculations and Adjustments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And Livio reveals his secret. Why he resigned from HRC (not really, it’s just a fic!)
> 
> I'm determined to keep posting this story despite my laptop problems!!!!

“So what do you think of my plan to make Livio and Santi happy again?” asked Marc as he ate lunch with Dani and Rins.

“Sounds a bit risky,” said Dani, concerned about his boyfriend.

“Well I’ve done my bit,” said Rins. “It’s all down to you now.” He punched his friend on the arm.

“Ow!” Marc pretended to pout. “But thanks, I owe you one. Are you sure that’s the best place?”

“Yes, I went through the whole system and that was the best one. But I could lose my job over it, so you better repay me very well.” He giggled and so did the young model.

“So, how can I help?” interrupted Dani. “If you’re going to get into trouble the least I can do is join in.”

“Well, remember when we got all that food from Maverick’s tea party? We can do that this time too. We’ll go out and buy it, then my plan will be complete.” He grinned devilishly, and Dani couldn’t resist grinning back at the sheer nerve of him.

“Actually, I’ve just thought of a way you can repay me,” blurted Rins, blushing. “I want clothes advice. What can I wear so I look better?”

Marc shrieked with excitement. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that for years!”

His friend cowered. “Well don’t go too mad, I only want to know brands and colours. I don’t want to give up my logo t-shirts and hoodies.”

“Oh the geek uniform, I know! Well never fear, Marc is here.”

Dani snorted. “Oh dear Rinsy, you’ve opened a can of worms now. You can’t go back…”

“I don’t mind. What do you think, Marc?”

“Well!” The young model took a deep breath. “I think lighter colours would suit you, especially now you’ve got blond hair. You could still wear the logo t-shirts and hoodies, but in better colours. The dull greys and beiges don’t do anything for you. why don’t you try raspberry or peach? Or even lemon? Or lime?”

“Are you telling me a recipe or are those actual clothes colours?” He chuckled at his friend’s enthusiasm.

“You could even have different glasses!” said Marc, getting carried away. “Those metal frames are so dated. You could have gold, or even one of the colours I mentioned. You’re eccentric so any colour would do.”

“Well I was thinking of getting contact lenses,” he said shyly. “I don’t like being a geek in glasses anymore.”

Dani frowned. “What’s brought this on? You dyed your hair, you are now asking about clothes and contact lenses…it seems a bit sudden.”

Rins blushed and mumbled, “well—you know—now my best friend’s a model—I just—well—it’s time for a change.”

Dani felt a little worried about him. He hoped Rins wasn’t being pressured by anyone, as he now worked for a fashion house. Maybe the IT department were expected to look fashionable too.

Marc had only paused momentarily. Now he was standing at his wardrobe, pointing to various items of clothing and talking about colour, texture and style. All Rins and Dani could do was watch in awe as the young Catalan went into overdrive explaining all the options for a Rins makeover.

***

When Marc walked Rins out to reception, they were surprised to see a huge whiteboard being wheeled into Iannone’s dressing room by two workmen in brown overalls. The board was covered in writing—well not really writing, but equations and fractions. Iannone was hovering around with a marker pen in his hand, telling the men to be careful and not spoil his equations. They were grumpily obeying his instructions while Marc and Rins stared with their mouths open.

“What is wrong with you two?” said the Italian. “I like to do maths sometimes, as a break from modelling.”

“That isn’t maths,” said the young IT technician. “That looks like quantum physics.”

“Nonsense! It’s maths. See, there are X and Y. And A and B.” He pointed to those letters, proudly.

Rins raised an eyebrow. “What does it all mean then?”

Iannone drew himself up to his full height. “It means, E equals MC squared. And A squared plus B squared equals C squared. And Pi R squared.” He stood triumphantly, staring at the two guys. 

Marc looked mystified. He _was_ mystified. So he asked, “what’s he talking about?” hoping he’d get an answer he understood.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” said Rins, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “He’s just trying to sound clever.”

The Italian snorted, and tossed his head. “I am not! I like to do equations in my spare time.”

“Those are such simple equations, my pet lizard knows them,” Rins continued. “You didn’t even tell me what they mean, you just reeled them off! Come on, tell me what you know!”

Iannone glared at him for a few seconds, then the delivery men emerged from his room and said, “all fixed now, guv. What about that tip you owe us?” The Italian was so grateful for the interruption that he handed each of them a note and flounced through his door.

“What the hell was that about?” laughed Marc. “He’s gone insane.”

“He’s just a jerk. Well thanks for lunch and the advice, I better get back to work.” He stalked off before Marc could even say goodbye.

***

At the end of the day, Santi waited in the meeting room for fifteen minutes, looking at the plates of wrapped sandwiches, sweet pastries and churros, and the pot of coffee set out on one of the tables. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to just eat one? But he didn’t dare as he didn’t know who’d put them there, and became impatient. He was just about to leave when the door opened, and Livio walked in, hesitantly.

“What are you doing here?” snapped the Catalan, drawing his smock about him protectively. “I thought I was meeting Mr Jarvis from Accounts.”

“Oh! B-but I thought I was meeting Mr Dall’Igna from Human Resources.”

They stared at each other but before they could move, the meeting room door clicked shut behind them and was locked.

Santi was the first to leap across the room and rattle the door handle. “Let me out! Whoever you are! Let me out!” He continued rattling and banging on the door, with all the strength of an angry and frustrated bear.

He didn’t give up for half an hour, while Livio watched hopelessly, his glance straying, however, over the food as his stomach was rumbling after so many hours after lunch.

“Well aren’t you going to do anything?” snapped the portly manager, glaring at his companion.

As an answer, Livio took out his phone and rang reception. There was no answer, the phone just rang and rang.

“Where is everyone?” he said to Santi. “Why’s reception not manned as usual?”

“Maybe they’ve gone home? It’s after five o’clock.”

The pair stared at each other in growing fear. Just then, there was a shuffling noise at the door and a note was pushed under it.

Santi grabbed it and read out, _YOU WON’T BE LET OUT OF HERE UNTIL YOU’VE SORTED OUT THE PROBLEMS BETWEEN YOU. THE FOOD IS FOR YOU TO SHARE._

“The cheek of it!” shouted the Catalan. “How dare they!” He rattled the door even harder, til he was out of breath and sweating.

“Santi, stop!” ordered Livio. “They’re right. We need to talk.” He braced himself to tell Santi all about what had happened twenty years ago.

The bearded man shrugged and sat down on a nearby table. “I’m waiting.”

Livio took a deep breath and began. “The reason I dumped you was because I was being blackmailed, Santi. Some guys found out about us and threatened to out me unless I paid a huge amount of money, I wasn’t going to—”

“Oh right, you dumped me because you were afraid of being outed! You only cared about yourself—”

“No, listen! I haven’t finished! I was about to say, I wasn’t going to give in to them! I was prepared to come clean about us and face the consequences—”

“So why dump me? You’re a liar, Livio, you—you’re a coward too!” 

The blue eyed Italian hadn’t seen Santi so outraged for many years, his eyes flashed as they used to when he was young and full of passion.

“LISTEN! The men—they threatened you. They said if I didn’t—if I didn’t pay, they’d—they would—” He took a deep breath. “Kill you.” He stared at the Catalan, his heart pounding like a jackhammer.

“Kill me? Don’t be stupid. Why—how—when? They wanted to kill me to get money out of you?” Santi’s eyes were wide now.

“Remember, twenty years ago, gay people weren’t accepted as they are now. People were still wary, the police weren’t interested in helping us. Anyway, these men told me not to go to the police or not only would they kill you but my parents too.”

“WHAT? Who were they? How did they find out about us?”

“Well.” Livio sat down heavily on the table opposite him. “They used to be my friends at school, but they chose to go one way with their life, I chose another. They got into drugs, I got a job as a model. They got deeper into crime and then turned on me. they saw me as easy money. They knew I was gay and knew they could blackmail me as I didn’t want to be outed. You know what it was like back then—people kept their sexuality a secret, it was seen as a weakness.”

Santi stared at him for a long time, so his companion poured them each a cup of coffee. 

Eventually the Catalan stuttered, “th—that is terrible. But why d—didn’t you tell me?”

“I—I didn’t want you involved. You were much younger, you—you had your whole life ahead of you.”

“So? You were only thirty, you had your life ahead of you too. You didn’t have to protect me, I was an adult.”

“But Santi! I didn’t want you killed! I had to protect you—and my parents!”

The dark-haired man sat thinking again, sipping his coffee, and when he spoke it was like he was thinking aloud. “So, when we were together, these guys found out and threatened you with outing or killing me if you didn’t pay up. How did you know they weren’t bluffing?” He absentmindedly opened a packet of ham sandwiches and began eating.

“They showed me photos they took of us together—there was even a video of us.”

“Doing what?” Santi’s eyes widened.

“Don’t worry, just us kissing in my garden at home. They must have set up a spy camera, I don’t know.”

“God. That is terrifying. They were stalking us. But I just want to know, Livio. Why the hell did you send me a fax? Why didn’t you tell me in person or even in a letter or phone call?”

“I’m sorry.” He sighed. “They came to my dressing room that day. They said they wanted evidence and wouldn’t believe I’d dumped you without something written. So they said a fax was ideal. What an idiot I was.”

“Yes, you were an idiot! Because the fax went to Human Resources and Elena, the manager, had to tell me. She was nice and took it to me personally but—but I was devastated, embarrassed, heartbroken. It took me years to feel better.”

“That’s why I sent it to Elena, I knew she was sympathetic to us and would help you. I’m sorry, I was in a panic.”

The two managers sat in silence for a long time, Santi continued eating the sandwiches and he offered some to Livio, who accepted them. 

Eventually Santi said, “I’ll have to think about this, I can’t just get over it now.”

“Okay.”

“I want to go home. Maybe the person will let us out now.” The bearded man went to the door and called, “can you let us out, we’ve talked about it.”

There was no answer so Livio joined him. “We appreciate your help, but we need to go now,” he shouted through the door.

There was the sound of scuffling outside the door, the lock clicked open but even as the Italian flung the door open, their captor had left and all they heard was running footsteps.

The two men exchanged glances.

“Who do we think that was?” asked Santi.

“I have a good idea, but I can’t be sure.”

“I have too. But he supplied us with churros, so I’m taking some.” The bearded manager took both packs of churros and put them in his bag. Livio watched him fondly. Santi had always enjoyed his food.


	23. It’s Been A Long Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People are preparing for Christmas in various ways.

On Friday, Tito and Maverick visited the youngest model’s grandmother, who was delighted to see him, hugging him as tightly as she could in her frail condition and telling him how much she loved him. She was also delighted to see Tito and said she couldn’t care less _who_ people loved, as long as they loved. Unlike SOME people, she said pointedly towards Angel, who mumbled to himself, then got a sharp elbow from his wife and stood up straight.

Then both Viñales parents drove them to the Rabats’ house, not wanting them to travel all the way on the bus with luggage, while Luciana’s sister stayed with their mother.

At last, Tito and Maverick carried their luggage in through the door of Tito’s family home. Angel shook hands with Esteban Rabat, but then said they should get home as Luciana was exhausted and her mother needed her.

“Come in, come in! You look rather tired, if you don’t mind me saying so.” Tito’s father was looking at Maverick, who was a little pale.

“Papa always says, a good meal or a sleep will fix anything,” Jordi piped up from the background.

“Too right!” laughed Esteban, and ushered the couple in. “Sit down and I’ll get dinner. Jordi, come and help me please.”

“Oh! Do I have to? It’s so unfair,” moaned the fifteen-year-old.

Everyone ignored him.

“Are you okay?” asked Tito the minute his relatives left. “It’s been a long day.”

“Yes, but I’m fine. I’d like to see our room though, I could do with a bit of peace and quiet. It’s been intense.”

“Of course! Come on.” The blond led his boyfriend up to his old bedroom in the attic, hoping they’d been put in there and not some other room. Not that there were many to choose from. Peering round the door, Tito was relieved to see the familiar scene—the textured wallpaper with his old books and games on the wooden shelves. And his favourite window seat, which although small, was perfect. Many times, the blond had sat there, either reading, or writing, or dreaming, or just watching the people on the street go by, and the cars and the trains in the distance. Of course now he was an adult, he barely fitted into the small space, but he tried sometimes for old time’s sake, his legs either squashed up or hanging down onto the floor.

“Come into my bedroom,” he said, holding the door open.

“Wahay!” said Maverick, hurrying in, not needing to be asked twice. He looked round at the small, blue painted room. “This is bigger than a single bed.” He sat on it, looking up at his boyfriend.

“Yes, I have the biggest bed as I’m the tallest, although Papa of course has a double bed and Jordi has a single,” babbled Tito nervously.

Maverick smiled and lay on the bed. “I really want to sleep,” he mumbled, but he was still looking round at the pale blue walls, white carpet, small window with blue checked curtains. He suddenly exclaimed and pointed at the felt green and red Christmas tree hanging on the back of the door.

“Oh my god, my dad must have put that there as a decoration!” said Tito. “I’d forgotten about it!”

“It’s so sweet, what are those pockets in the bottom part?”

“Papa and Mama used to put sweets and little toys in it for me when I was a kid. Jordi has one too.” His eyes filled with tears and Maverick held out his arms. Tito fell into them and they cuddled up on the bed.

“Look at the mirror!” The young model pointed. “They’ve been in your bedroom.” There was a piece of blue and gold tinsel framing the mirror.

“Let’s have a sleep then we can look round the house, there must be more decorations. My dad loves to get Christmas started early.” The couple snuggled up and dozed off.

Downstairs, Esteban and Jordi were scurrying about putting up the Christmas tree. It was still two weeks til the big day, but they liked to put the tree and decorations up as soon as possible.

In the kitchen, two trays of cinnamon biscuits sat baking in the oven, ready for dipping into chocolate or coffee. The fragrant, homely smell drifted all over the house and up to the bedroom where the two lovers slept. They sniffed the aroma in their sleep and smiled even more broadly than before.

***

The next week, Herve Poncharal, the head of the IT department, decided he wasn’t happy with the computer systems in the Repsol building, so he ordered a review of the whole structure.

So when the models came in for work the next day, they found technicians lying all over the place fixing things under every table. They soon became fed up with tripping over long legs!

It was worst for Tito as he had Rins and one of his colleagues, Jonas Folger, lying under his desk fiddling with the wires and buttons under there. As visitors came and left via reception, the blond got some very strange looks from them because there were legs sticking out from all angles and the IT pair kept talking to each other, unaware of the conversations going on above.

“If you tighten the regulator cable, it’ll make it work,” said Jonas to Rins, who seemed to be screwing something into place under the desk.

“Oh that’s it!” he exclaimed. “Pass me the smallest screwdriver.”

“So, Mr Nakamoto can see you at three fifteen,” said Tito to a couple of beautifully dressed models and their assistant, over the technicians’ conversation.

“Can you try it now, Tito?” Rins’ head popped up next to him.

“Try what?” asked Tito patiently.

“The internet connection.”

“In a minute, I’m just talking to a visitor.” He smiled in a rather strained way at the visitors and directed them over to the waiting area.

There were so many interruptions like this all morning that the receptionist’s patience was wearing very thin by lunchtime.

***

It was the same all around the model department for the whole week. Technicians were constantly fiddling with everything just at the very moment people wanted to use them—computers, projectors, whiteboards, televisions, lights, cameras. Nearly everything was linked to IT these days so if any of it was out of action, the department was in trouble. 

The pleasant side of the situation for Marc, however, was that Rinsy was always around. The young model was triumphant about how well his plan had gone to make Santi happy again and therefore make him forget to interfere between himself and Dani.

“It went perfectly, and no one suspects a thing!” he crowed to his friend as the technician was adjusting one of the huge screens in a meeting room.

“Don’t they? Why do you think Herve arranged this review of all systems?”

Marc’s eyes widened. “Is it because of what we did?”

“Don’t shout!”

“Sorry.”

“He suspects people have been fiddling with the room bookings. It’s not just me—everyone does it.”

Just as the young model was about to answer, the door burst open and Iannone marched in.

“Oh!” he said. “Livio’s booked this room for a meeting with me, Dovi and some potential clients. You better get out before then.” He loomed in the door, sneering.

Marc glared at him. “You’re so rude! We’ll be out when we’ve finished!”

“His mother never taught him politeness,” said Rins, carrying on testing the screen functions. “Mine taught me _if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all._ ”

“Well his mother obviously never did!” Marc snorted and both of them giggled scornfully. 

“All I’m doing is telling you the situation,” said Iannone, and flounced out of the room.

“He’s such a prick!” said Rins, tightening a screw violently. “The type of big headed jerk I really hate.”

His companion was surprised at the rare aggression from his friend but agreed. “He’s always going on about getting a job with another fashion house, one far better than Repsol. So hopefully he’ll get one and leave.”

“Hmph.” Rins rolled his eyes like a sulky teenager.

Just then the door opened again, and a beady eyed man stalked in. “I hope you’re getting on with your work and not fraternising with the models,” he barked at Rinsy.

Marc frowned.

“Yes, Mr Miller,” said the blond. He didn’t look at him, and after the man had eyed Marc suspiciously, he swept out of the door officiously.

“Who the hell was that?” The young model screwed up his nose.

“Jack Miller. The assistant manager of the IT department. A self-righteous sod.”

“Are you not allowed to talk to the models, then?”

“Apparently not. Although he knows you’re my school friend so hopefully it’s okay.”

Marc raised his eyebrows at his friend, who shrugged.

***

In his dressing room, Iannone was getting more and more annoyed. His colleagues were still barely speaking to him after what happened with Rins, and even worse, they were all laughing at him.

_It’s all his fault. If he hadn’t come to visit Marc, the other models would still like and respect me. I even went to apologise, and it still made no difference. I just wish I could get another job and leave._

He tutted and rolled his eyes, in a real sulk. It didn’t help that these damn technicians had been popping up all over the place this week.

On Monday, he had tripped over one of them at reception while he was trying to ask Tito about the next fashion shoot. Tito had been annoyed too and snapped at Iannone, which was unlike the mild receptionist. The technician working under the table had laughed at something he’d said, and Tito joined in, leaving the Italian out. Even worse, the technician turned out to be Rins, who was the last person he wanted to give an excuse to laugh at him.

On Tuesday he had been eating lunch in the cafeteria trying to text his friends and contacts asking if they knew of any available jobs, but the wi-fi kept going on and off until after an hour, he’d given up. The other models had been sitting together at another table ignoring him. They kept looking over but giggling instead of talking to him. He’d heard them say, “Iamoany” while looking at him, so obviously that was their nickname for him. How childish.

On Wednesday he’d been doing a shoot with Dovi and Livio in one of the studios, but the lights kept going out, which he found annoying but Dovi and Livio had just laughed about the inconvenience. They were always so happy these days, as their personal lives were working out, so nothing bothered them. Rins and some other guy had come in to mend them, they’d all been giggling together whereas Iannone had seen nothing funny about the situation.

And now today, he’d been trying to go into the meeting room and Rins was there again! Laughing again! Iannone ground his teeth. _That annoying man! It’s all his fault that the models turned against me. They all took offence at nothing!_ He strode up and down his dressing room. Thinking about Rins made him feel murderous, or something.

***

Santi called his Active wear models into his office for a meeting.

“Now the first thing I want to say is, Livio and I have sorted out our problems thanks to some mysterious interference…” He looked at the two young men, who avoided his eyes. Marc was studying the ceiling as if he was a structural engineer, while Dani gazed out of the window as if he was memorising the scenery.

“At least, we are talking again,” continued the bearded manager. “So I want to apologise for being too harsh on you two and say that, although I don’t want to keep you apart, it’s not sensible to be all over each other at work. so please restrain yourselves and act professionally at Repsol.”

“Yes Santi,” they chorused. “Sorry Santi.”

“I also want to say that Livio and I talked about swapping Dani with Aleix and decided it wouldn’t be a good idea—”

“Hooray!” shouted Marc, hugging Dani tightly and kissing his face.

Santi raised an eyebrow at them.

“Sorry,” said the young model, smirking.

“We decided there was no point breaking up established teams just for the sake of it.” Santi smiled in slight embarrassment.

“I’m glad you and Livio have made up,” said Dani impulsively, reaching forward and patting his hand. “Life’s too short to hold grudges.”

Santi got a tear in his eye and coughed. “Another thing I want to talk about is the Christmas party, which is coming up soon. Can you help me plan it? Livio and I want all models’ input, so we’re sure everyone will like it.”

***

Rins and Jonas were sitting together to do the inventory of all the IT equipment in the model department. Their colleague, Johann Zarco, sat with them. He and Jonas had been at Repsol for about six months now, and had been helping Rins settle in.

“So you what do you think of our horrible assistant manager?” asked Johann bluntly. He was never anything but blunt, however much people shushed him. “Did he give you the lecture about not fraternising with the models?”

The newly blond one shrugged. “Yeah. He said if I did, he’d report me to Mr Poncharal. Is he always like that?”

“Yes, he says it’s unprofessional to socialise with them. He knows Poncharal is paranoid that his IT guys only want jobs here so they can get close to the models.” The Frenchman sighed. “He doesn’t want scandals and kiss-and-tell stories all over the internet. So we’ve got to kiss Miller’s arse.”

“How stupid. We’re not kids.”

Johann shrugged. “Not much we can do. He means it—behave or he’ll tell the boss.”

“He does,” warned Jonas. “I went out secretly with a model here, Miller said it was unacceptable. He humiliated me and my boyfriend, who was so upset, he left Repsol.”

“Oh no!” Rins patted him on the arm. “What did Miller do?”

“Well—he and his mates—er—they told my boyfriend that I was only with him because I wanted to show him off as a status symbol. They told him they’d bet me I couldn’t get with him and he believed them.” The German’s lip trembled.

“Bastards,” said Rins, making a fist with his left hand. “Still, he couldn’t have been much of a boyfriend if he believed them.”

“That’s true.”

“But anyway, then he found ME,” interrupted Johann. “A passionate Frenchman, and he’s never looked back.”

Jonas blushed. “It seems to work better that way.”

“So you’re saying geeks should only be with geeks?” asked the blond, pushing his glasses up his nose for the umpteenth time.

“Really, yes,” said Johann. “I too was a victim of Mr Jack Miller and his gang, but with me, they misinterpreted the situation. I was just friends with the model, but they read too much into it, and I got a formal warning.”

“What? That’s unfair!”

“It is. And as well as that, because I challenged them, they told Mr Poncharal that I’d been behaving unprofessionally—rushing or not doing my own work so I could hang out with the models, spreading gossip—and I was lucky to keep my job. It was only because Mr Suppo from the model department stepped in to say I was hardly in the model department and none of the models really knew me, that I am still here.” The Frenchman was red in the face at the memory of this humiliation, and his boyfriend patted his arm.

“Fuck,” said Rins, his mouth falling open. “What bullies.”

His colleagues nodded.

“Aren’t you friends with that model from the Active Wear department? You need to be careful about that,” said Jonas. “You don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”

“He’s called Marc, he’s my school friend. and I’ll be friends with who I like!” The newest technician set his jaw.

The other two exchanged worried glances.

“Just be careful,” said Johann. “They’ll spy on you. And they try to intimidate you too, they ask the models for gossip.”

“Well, Marc will make sure the models don’t betray me.”

“Is there something to betray then?” asked the German anxiously.

“Hardly! Those models wouldn’t be interested in me. They look like gods and I’m just some boring guy.”

“So why did you dye your hair then?” Johann bit his lip. “You’re not trying to attract anyone?”

“No, I just felt like a change.”

His companions exchanged worried glances.

“You better avoid all models. They are forbidden. Illegal. Prohibited,” warned Johann, patting his arm. “Miller hates newbies—he’ll be watching you.”

Rins wasn’t going to worry about a manager with a stick up his arse—life was too short. He tutted and turned back to his work. Luckily, Johann and Jonas took the hint and began talking about football, until they finished their work for the morning and went back to the IT department for lunch.

***

After brooding for a while, Iannone decided he had taken quite enough mockery and strode down to the IT department. He marched into Rins’ office and shut the door, then up to where he was sitting by the window, unwinding some computer leads.

“Why don’t you just accept my apology? You shouldn’t make fun of me!”

Rins glared at him. “You shouldn’t be here, go back upstairs!” He shared the office with Johann and Jonas—they weren’t there to defend him, but he stood firm and faced the invader. 

“Answer my question!”

“Why shouldn’t I make fun? You did that to me the first time we met.” 

Iannone glared. “I’m more important than you!”

“How dare you? If it wasn’t for me, half the tech in the building would break down!”

“You’re just some sad nerd but I’m on the verge of an important career as a top model!” He loomed over Rins, leaning towards him and breathing heavily like a bull which had just charged out of a field.

The technician stood up, his own temper rising. “You’re not important! You’re just a—a—conceited—b-big headed, arsey, fucky, idiot!”

Iannone smirked.

“And you’re a fuckwit, arsewipe!” Rins continued, not budging, although he was bright red in the face and shaking. He knew if Iannone punched him, he’d be badly hurt, but he wasn’t going to give in. 

The taller man stared, feeling so angry he was surprised steam wasn’t coming out of his nostrils. “What’s a fuckwit arsewipe? You can’t even insult me properly! You’re useless!”

Rins stuttered something, not even sure what he wanted to say or how to say it, he was so wound up.

“You’re foaming at the mouth, you freak.” Iannone wiped spit off the young Catalan’s lip but like a dog, he bit the Italian’s thumb.

“Ouch! You are very bad!” He pulled Rins’ head backwards by his thick, wavy hair, which was actually going golden now as the blond dye grew out. Behind his glasses, his big eyes were wide, and he rolled them in panic, looking like a captured wild horse. He was right against the blue painted wall now, his angular elbows and shoulder blades hitting the plaster painfully. It struck Iannone that he was a totally different shape to him—long-limbed and gangly—whereas the Italian was sturdy and compact. A total contrast—complete opposites. He felt suddenly curious about how they would fit together, so he stepped forward and pushed against Rins, trapping him.

The younger man gasped as the breath was jolted out of him—so suddenly that his arms were forced forward and he clung onto Iannone as a reflex action.

“What are you doing?” He gulped. “You think I’m butt ugly and—and I think you’re brainless.” He looked quickly to the door of the office, but luckily it was shut, and the blind pulled down. Hopefully Miller wouldn’t do one of his sudden office inspections.

“I want to—to see what you’re—what you’re like.” The Italian’s voice felt suddenly out of control.

Before Rins could say anything else, he found himself being kissed painfully, but that only lasted a second before it became softer and sweeter. This strange Italian smelled strongly of aftershave and tasted of something hot, like spicy sausage, but it was the best kiss the young IT technician had experienced for a long time so he kissed him back until his head was spinning and he was draped around him like a cape. But he became aware of something after a while and pushed Iannone back.

“Stop, stop!”

“Oh, did I hurt you? Sorry, I—” 

“No, no, but you’re breaking my glasses.”

Iannone whipped them off his nose and put them somewhere so they could continue kissing. He was surprised to find he liked being wrapped up by such a lanky dork who tasted of tomato sandwich. Where he was muscly or rounded, Rins was flat or bony and it was such a different experience to his normal ones with models, that he wanted to continue.

They staggered backwards onto the nearest desk, but being strong, the Italian supported them both as he sat down heavily. There was an ominous cracking noise and he moved sideways to see Rins’ crushed glasses under his bottom.

“Oh my god, you idiot! What have you done!” He pushed Iannone away as his voice rose in anguish and he clutched at his hair. “They were expensive, I can’t afford to replace them!”

“I’ll buy you some more!”

“But how am I going to do my work today? How am I going to get home? I can’t see well enough!”

The Italian had thought Rins was a boring type of person, but the second explosion of temper from him within a few minutes was more exciting than the sniping war that had been going on between them for weeks.

“I’ll help you today! I’ll help you with your job!” he exclaimed. “I can look at the screens and help with the cables and all the things you do! I can even drive you home, I have my car!”

The young technician stared at him. “But what about your own work in the modelling department?”

“I can fit them both in, don’t worry. My friends there will help me.”

“I thought they all hated you now after you were rude to me?”

“Well if I tell them about us—”

“Tell them what? You can’t tell them we just—that we—er—”

“Why not? Are you ashamed of me?” This was a totally new feeling for the proud Italian model and he didn’t like the churning in his stomach.

“No! No. I just don’t want—I don’t want one kiss to change everything. You’ll be kissing someone else tomorrow, I’m sure.”

Iannone paused, taking a breath. “Well do you want me to help you or not? Just for today, if you can’t stand more than that. I broke your glasses, and so I should make up for it.”

“O—okay. Thanks.” He rubbed the older man’s arm gently and gave a nervous, cute smile. His office door was still shut, but had Jack Miller and his cronies noticed the good-looking model marching in? Half of him regretted letting Iannone kiss him but the other half felt like he’d defied Miller and his stupid threats. Who were these bullies to tell him how to live his life?

***

Dani and Marc—well Marc really—wanted to check up on Santi and Livio to make sure they’d really stopped their long feud.

So everywhere Santi went for the rest of the day, he was bemused by doors swinging shut on all sides; scurrying footsteps; the feeling people were ducking down out of sight when he looked round. He became so spooked that he went to see Livio.

“What’s happening to me? Ever since you told me people were spying on me twenty years ago, I keep thinking they’re doing it again!” He felt a bit shaky.

“You too?” said the grey-haired Italian. “I’ve felt like that all day.”

The pair frowned at each other. Then a door banged outside Livio’s office and Santi tiptoed over to look out of the office door.

“There’s no one there,” he faltered when he came back. “Is Repsol haunted?”

Livio, however, was less easily fooled. He strode to the door. “Marc!” he bellowed. “I know you’re there! Stop following us!”

There was silence, then a slow shuffling of feet and the young model sidled into view. Livio beckoned him.

“What are you doing?”

The two managers glared at him.

“Well—er—I—er—wanted to make sure that you two—were—er—not going to fall out again and try and split up me and Dani.” He began warming to his theme. “I didn’t want it all to go wrong again and Dani to swap with Aleix in the Office wear department, I couldn’t bear that, we both—”

“Marc!” exclaimed Livio. “That is in the past now. Santi and I are—well, he understands what happened now. Not that it’s any of your business but we’re fine now. Thanks for your concern but you don’t need to be concerned anymore.”

Santi beamed at the young Catalan, the broadest grin Marc had ever seen on the bearded man’s face. “So, quit while you’re ahead,” he advised, shaking his finger in mock reprimand at him.

“Okay.” Marc hung his head, although his eyes were still twinkling. He ambled out of the room.

“Now, what did I tell you?” said Dani’s voice outside. “I told you not to follow them around, I knew you’d get into trouble, I said they wouldn’t like it—” His voice faded as the couple walked away from the office.

“Oh dear,” said Santi. “Someone’s being henpecked.” 

“Technically, Dani isn’t a hen.” Livio had a twinkle in his eye.

“Oh…okay. Marc is being cock-pecked then.”

The two managers burst into giggles.

***

When they arrived at Rins’ flat after work, Iannone parked as close to the front door as possible. His passenger opened the door and jumped out as quickly as he could, so the Italian took off his seatbelt and opened his door too.

“What are you doing?” asked Rins, hastening round to the driver’s side, using the car bonnet to guide him.

“Aren’t I coming in for coffee, as I brought you home?” The Italian stared at him in surprise.

Just then a man’s voice called, “hey Rinsy, ready for this evening?”

Iannone looked round and saw a group of nerdy looking guys at the entrance to the apartment block.

“Who are they? What’s going on?”

Rins held his broken glasses up to his eyes. “Oh! They’re my friends! They’re early! Thanks for the lift, I’ll see you at work tomorrow.” He was just about to shut the door, but the Italian stopped him.

“Why don’t you want me to meet them?” _A group of nerds would love to meet me! Whenever I’ve had a nerdy boyfriend before, his friends have been the perfect source of admiration and appreciation. Just the boost my ego needs._

“We’re having debate night. It’s about philosophy. You wouldn’t understand. Goodbye, see you at work.” Rins slammed the door and shuffled towards his friends.

Iannone stared after him as he reached the group and they greeted him with fist bumps, asking questions.

“Who’s that guy?”

“Just a work colleague.”

“Is he one of those Repsol models?” Rins’ friends made _ooh_ and _aah_ noises. 

“No, just a guy.”

“You’re not betraying the geek code, are you?”

“No! He gave me a lift home cos I broke my glasses, look!”

“You’re a moron, Rinsy. You’re always breaking them.”

“Why don’t you ask that guy to our debate?”

“Nah. He’s not into debating. He’s more of a _gazing at himself in mirrors_ type.”

The others made scornful noises and then the whole group tumbled through the entrance door.

Iannone sat in his car, stunned. _What’s happening? Usually men like him are only too happy to show me off and boast that I’m their boyfriend. He doesn’t think I’m good enough for them. He thinks I’m too stupid._

This last thought made him blush with anger. He started the engine and roared out of the car park, making passers-by jump out of the way. His mind was racing. _How dare that nerd disrespect me? Why the hell did I kiss him today? What the hell was I thinking?_ He drove off home in a huff, plotting revenge against Rins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit nervous about this chapter but it can’t wait any longer…
> 
> btw does anyone know, if I remove the chapter about computer problems, will it affect the other chapters?


	24. Santi Baby, Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas party time! It’s nearly the big day!

The Christmas party was to be held during office hours because it was easier for everyone, so at midday on the 22nd December, Repsol closed its doors to the public and all staff went to get changed into their fancy dress costumes. The party would start at one o’clock and go on as long as necessary.

After a flurry of everyone flapping around getting dressed, the models and their managers met in reception. Although everyone was used to wearing different clothes all the time, most people felt a little shy looking so unusual. Apart from a few of course—Marc was dressed as a policeman, and stood with one hand on his hip, twirling his handcuffs round the other hand. 

“Who’s been a naughty boy then?” he asked, looking at the others in turn, which made them all giggle.

Iannone was dressed in a purple suit, and wearing a large afro wig. He posed, saying, “I am a pimp of the 1970s.” Everyone gasped, then burst out into giggles.

This broke the ice and the models started talking to each other. There was a crowd of younger models who weren’t permanent staff but had been invited anyway, and they milled round excitedly.

“Thanks for covering for me so often,” said Tito to the young Nicco, who was dressed as Baloo the bear from the Jungle Book. He looked so cute.

“That’s okay, I liked being at reception.” He smiled up at Tito, who had chosen a reindeer costume. They looked like a pair of animals from a cartoon.

“Smile!” said Santi, pointing a digital camera at them. He’d decided the occasion was far too important for his phone camera, and snapped the two guys, who had one arm round each other. The flash nearly blinded them, and they burst into giggles. Santi—or rather, SantA—was wearing the traditional red jacket, hat and trousers, but instead of the usual white beard, he’d just sprayed his real beard and hair white, so it was attached to him.

“Hello Rudolph,” said Maverick, pushing jealously in between his boyfriend and the cute Nicco. “Take a pic of us as well, Santi.” He was wearing his usual Top Gun outfit, with a black leather jacket, white t-shirt and jeans.

So the jolly Santa did so, not commenting on the fact that Maverick had managed to elbow Nicco out of the side of the photo.

***

Aleix was dressed as the huntsman from Red Riding Hood in black trousers and a black leather waistcoat, with a grey hooded shirt underneath. He carried a bow and axe, with arrows carried in a quiver on his back.

“You look hot,” said Dovi, cuddling up to him. “Oh huntsman, what big muscles you have.” He squeezed Aleix’s biceps.

“All the better to hold you down with.” He eyed his boyfriend, who was wearing a fox costume. It was an orange-brown, tight bodysuit with a matching hood with ears, a tail and a faux fur white bib. Somehow being a fox suited his heart shaped face, with his slightly pointed chin and beard, and Aleix nearly fell over gazing at him.

“But are a fox and a huntsman allowed to be together?” Dovi giggled.

“Well, it is against the Huntsman’s code to have a fox boyfriend, but we’ll have to keep it secret from the Huntsman Association.” The tall model joined in the giggling.

***

“Can I help you, officer?” said Dani to Marc, putting his hands on his hips, because he was dressed as Superman, his favourite character. 

“Oh yes Superman. You find the criminals and I’ll arrest them.”

“I’ll try, officer. But if I fail you’ll have to punish me.” He stared into Marc’s eyes but just then, his cloak flapped behind him as the reception door swung open and everyone turned to see an Egyptian pharaoh striding in. They stared, then Marc leapt forward.

“Alex!” he gasped, and flung his arms round the tall figure. “This is my little brother, Alex!” he said to the group. “So glad you could come!”

Everyone stared as the younger brother was about one foot taller than the older brother, but then remembered their manners and greeted the pharaoh.

“I got a few strange looks walking from Mama’s car to here,” said Alex, “but no one bothered me.”

“You could call the Egyptian gods’ wrath down on them if they did!” said Marc excitedly.

Alex gazed round the room at everyone and thought how cute the guy dressed as a bear looked.

Livio and Shuhei were standing by the door, looking quite odd because it seemed Elvis and Charlie Chaplin were deep in conversation, together with a flapper from the 1920s, which was what Mrs Nakamoto had come as. The reception door swung open again and the IT department shuffled in. They only socialised with the model department on very important and rare occasions.

Rins, whose hair was a dark gold now as the blond dye had nearly grown out, was wearing a Rubik cube costume, all in black with the cube surrounding his chest. His colleagues, Johann and Jonas, were also in black, but one was Pacman, the other an Angry Bird. The models burst into giggles as the trio posed in the doorway like a very odd version of Charlie’s Angels, then walked in unsteadily as their costumes were making them wobbly.

Everyone could hear music playing from higher in the building and Livio stepped forward. He wore a shiny, gold suit, a black Elvis wig and a guitar strapped to him.

“If you’d all like to go upstairs to the big conference room now,” he said, then in his best Elvis voice, added, “thank you very much,” and everyone laughed.

They made their way up the stairs as it was only one floor up, and the lifts would never have taken the large number of people in bulky costumes. The level of noise grew louder and louder as everyone talked more and the music became nearer.

Iannone stalked along behind the group, feeling unsure of himself because no one was really talking to him. He felt like he’d been left behind while all the others moved on with their lives. This feeling was very unusual for him and he didn’t like it.

Maverick held Tito tightly by the arm as it was hard for the blond to see where he was walking due to the reindeer hood. Also, the young model wanted to fend off any marauding bears because the reindeer suit was pretty tight and clung to Tito’s body in all the right places. 

“Why are you hurrying me?” asked Tito. “Do you feel the need, the need for speed?” He giggled. 

“Yes, we’re going on the highway to the danger zone,” the youngest model replied as he helped his boyfriend negotiate the steps.

When they entered the conference room, the DJ on the stage was playing a familiar tune and they burst out laughing.

_Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer_  
_Had a very shiny nose_  
_And if you ever saw it_  
_You would even say it glows_  
_All of the other reindeer_  
_Used to laugh and call him names_  
_They never let poor Rudolph_  
_Join in any reindeer games_

“They’re playing our song,” said Maverick, catching Tito’s hand and twirling him round. The reindeer put his other arm out in a pose, and hit Iannone on the cheek.

“Be careful of my face!” he snapped, which only made the couple giggle more. The Italian stalked off to the drinks table and ordered the largest cocktail he could think of. He frowned at the Rubik cube across the room, who glared back.

Everyone poured into the hall and the sound of talking drowned out the music. The room was decorated with orange, silver and purple, which looked festive, if not traditional. There was a large, real Christmas tree in one corner decorated with tinsel and baubles in the same colours and the tables had silver cloths on with orange flowers in vases set out on them.

There was a buffet table fairly groaning with food—marinated or grilled prawns, patatas bravas, croquetas, meat, fish and vegetable sandwiches, potato salad, fried peppers, anchovies and olives, fried squid and octopus, potatoes boiled in sauce, spicy meatballs and scallops, cheese, marinated chorizo and pork medallions, potato tortillas, bread rolls. And there was plenty of beer, wine, sherry, even soft drinks to go with it, so no one would go thirsty. There was nothing missing, everyone could choose something, and they did.

Every guest piled their lunch plate high and sat around eating and drinking while the DJ played Christmassy music. They admired the usual ice sculpture that Livio had insisted upon—this time it was a triangular Christmas tree decorated with small stars, and a big star adorning the top. Light shone through it, as it sat on its bed of crushed ice keeping it cold.

_Rocking around the Christmas Tree_  
_at the Christmas party hop_  
_A mistletoe hung where you can see_  
_Every couple tries to stop_  
_Rocking around the Christmas Tree_  
_Let the Christmas spirit ring_  
_Later we'll have some pumpkin pie_  
_and we'll do some caroling_

***

“How do you think Livio and Santi are now?” asked Dani of Marc. They were sitting with Marc’s brother Alex, as obviously he didn’t know anyone else, and they looked over at the two managers, who were standing by the food table. Santi had a huge plate of food and Livio was eyeing it, looking as if he wanted to comment as his own plate was far more modest.

“They look okay, don’t they? Santi hasn’t told us off lately and he’s been far more relaxed. I wonder what they said in that room, I’d love to know.”

“But we must never ask, Marc. Promise me you won’t?” Dani patted his lover’s knee.

“Oh dear am I interrupting?” Rins sat down, with some difficulty due to the wide girth of the Rubik cube.

“No, we were just talking about the Livio/Santi situation,” said Marc in his ear. “It seems to have gone well, don’t you think?”

“Seems so. Well done, partner in crime.” The technician held out his hand and the model shook it, winking at him. Rins noticed Captain Hook in the background frowning at them and realised with a sinking heart that he was really Jack Miller from IT. He sighed and tried to ignore the glaring figure.

The trio continued chatting about various silly things, including Marc’s brother in the conversation. Alex was eighteen, very close in age to Marc, so had heard all about Santi and his activities, so he sat listening intently. And luckily, Miller was buttonholed by Herve Poncharal, so he disappeared into the crowd.

***

Iannone watched the guests while eating his plate of food. He wasn’t sure what to do with himself. Should he go and chat to his fellow models? Should he talk to Rins, who had made it clear he didn’t want his IT colleagues to know they knew each other? Normally he’d go and talk to Dovi, but he was deep in conversation with Aleix, and Iannone didn’t want to butt in because he was still annoyed about them stealing his grapes and snogging in the Autumn Photoshoot.

Someone tapped him on the arm and he looked down to see Mrs Nakamoto.

“Are you alright, Andrea dear?” she asked. She was wearing a flapper costume of a black fringed dress, a feather boa and Mary Jane style shoes, with a headband and long pearl necklace.

“Yes thank you, Mrs Nakamoto,” he said politely. 

“You looked lonely standing there, so I thought I’d come and chat.” She beamed up at him and he smiled back. “Please call me Himari.”

“Okay, Mrs Nak—I mean Himari.”

“What are you doing for Christmas?” she continued, 

“I’m going to stay with my parents and brother.” Iannone wondered if he’d enjoy it this year. His brother Angelo was about to get married and all the talk would be about the wedding, which bored him silly.

“Oh that sounds nice, where do they live?”

The proud model didn't usually talk about his life outside Repsol, but as Himari seemed to be a nice, kind woman, he didn’t mind talking to her about Christmas, so he began telling her about his family.

***

“I was thinking,” said Dovi to Aleix as they sat eating, “that maybe you could—er—” He was blushing.

Aleix looked at him, wondering what on earth he was going to ask.

“That—er—after Christmas you could meet Sara. It's too busy at Christmas, she’s far too excited but maybe in the New Year?”

Aleix gasped, so delighted he couldn’t speak.

“If you think it’s too soon or you don’t want to, it’s fine, forget I asked but I just thought—”

“Of course I want to!” Aleix had to shout over the music and noisy chatter. “I’d love to meet her.” He beamed at his boyfriend, who hugged him. “And you can come and meet my family.”

“Oh, can I?” Dovi’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, my little brother and sister. And our dogs. Some live with me at my flat but my family has lots more. You do like dogs, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, you asked me that before. I’d like to meet your dogs. But not dressed like this, they may chase me.”

They laughed happily.

***

“Aren’t you hot in that suit?” asked Maverick of Tito. “I mean, you look hot but is it uncomfortable?”

“It is a bit, yes, maybe I could undo it to the waist?” The blond giggled. “And tie it round like a belt.”

“You could but you’d be guilty of making everyone swoon.”

“Maybe I’ll reserve it for you later then.” He waggled his eyebrows. “When we’re alone…”

Maverick giggled and fed him a marinated prawn. “We’ll be at your dad’s for Christmas won’t we. Then I thought we’d visit my parents the day after?”

“Sounds lovely.” Tito mumbled through the prawn. “But I’ll keep the reindeer suit just for you.”

***

Iannone was still talking to Himari Nakamoto as they walked arm in arm towards her husband. He felt like he was tagging along but part of him was grateful for her attention as he felt excluded by all the others.

Just as they walked in front of the DJ, the man spotted them and began playing the classic Charleston dance tune to go with Himari’s flapper costume.

The whole room of guests looked round at the DJ and many people burst into giggles.

“Oh, I know the Charleston,” she said, and began stepping back and forth, swivelling on the balls of her feet and flapping her hands around in the classic moves. She looked so cute that Iannone smiled in delight. “Come along,” she said, holding her hands out to him and he tried to copy her, swivelling about and flapping his hands. His afro wig fell off and he left it on the floor, enjoying himself too much to stop dancing.

Everyone was crowding round to watch, and most were laughing and clapping along. Soon some people began copying the pair. Himari looked round at them, then went up to Tito and Rins. 

“You need to be tall and thin to dance the Charleston properly,” she said. “I’m too short and fat.”

Rins and Tito made polite disagreeing noises and let her pull and push them into Charleston positions. Even though Rins was tall and thin, his Rubik cube was far too big and kept bumping into people until they were out of breath with laughter. Iannone kept well away from the cube however. 

One by one, people began joining in and soon most of the guests were dancing the Charleston—animal characters, fantasy, Christmas, gangsters, pirates, superheroes, toys, Disney—so many different costumes, all flapping away, laughing and tripping over. 

The level of talking and laughing grew even louder and the DJ had to play the Charleston tune over and over again, so everyone could join in.

When it finally finished, the ice was well and truly broken, and the guests sat down flushed and giggling, their food definitely digested.

Dovi was looking naughtily at Aleix, and twirling his fox tail round his hand. “Bet you can’t catch me!” he shouted, and ran off through the guests, dodging and weaving round them.

“Oh can’t I!” exclaimed Aleix, setting off after him, waving his big axe.

Just then, Marc spied a large piñata hanging from the ceiling and ran towards it, followed by Dani, his cape flapping. The younger model grabbed a stick which Shuhei handed to him and began bashing at the donkey.

“Hold on!” said Dani. “Let everyone else have a turn!”

Marc handed him the stick and the small model had to stand on tiptoes a little to hit the brightly coloured thing.

The others came crowding round for their turn. Iannone whacked the piñata like he was playing hockey, then Alex tapped gently at it, aware he was only a guest and afraid of winning something the more senior members of the group should have.

Everyone had drunk quite a bit now and Maverick tried to do a cool martial-arts move—turning his back then whipping round to hit the donkey, but his judgement was slightly off, and he missed the piñata by an inch or too, and staggered. 

The crowd went “ohhh” and some shouted, “have another turn!” So he did, this time doing it sensibly.

“No, no! This is how you do it!” exclaimed Livio, loosened up by wine and forgetting to be mature. He took the stick from Maverick and struck the donkey firmly on the body. But nothing happened, and the audience laughed. Livio played up to them and pretended to be angry—shaking his fist at the piñata and sulking.

Santi was creased up laughing and Livio glared at him. 

“You try then, if you’re so clever.” The blue-eyed Italian threw the stick at him.

“I will!” The bearded Catalan whacked the rainbow coloured donkey and it broke! The sweets fell out and Santi fist pumped the air. “You see, Livio! THAT is how it’s done!” he crowed.

Dani nudged Marc. “See, they must be happier—they’re talking and laughing. You did the right thing.”

“Of course I did.” The young model snogged his boyfriend and they fell into the pile of sweets, making the other guests complain they were squashing the prizes. They pushed the two Activewear models off the sweets and everyone grabbed a handful of the candies.

“Right, before we have a break for more food and whatever, here is another game,” said Santi. He handed everyone a sheet of stickers. “Sticker Stalker. The object of this game is to stick the stickers on people without them noticing. The first to use up his stickers is the winner.”

Aleix and Dovi suddenly arrived at the group, out of breath and red in the face. The Italian’s faux fur fox bib was round the back instead of the front, and the Catalan had lost his arrow quiver.

“Where have you two been?” said Iannone crossly, as if he couldn’t guess.

“Hunting foxes,” said Aleix, and everyone laughed.

The purple suited model glowered, especially as Rins was gazing at him and laughing too. Although the IT technician had the grace to look embarrassed and turn away when he caught Iannone’s eye. He was pretty sure the Italian had overheard his conversation with his friends when he’d given him a lift home that time, judging by the way he’d roared out of the car park. Rins had thought it was a good idea to be rude about someone who’d been rude about him, but he didn’t feel happy about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This probably seems like a really childish party but I like the idea of the Repsol staff playing children’s games and getting thoroughly overexcited.  
> I think I’ve been watching too much Strictly Come Dancing too...


	25. How Old Are You, Anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Christmas party continues…A soft fluffy chapter with a hard centre.

The DJ began to play more dancey type music and everyone munched on the sweets or other snacks, trying to put stickers on each other without them noticing.

“My dear brother!” exclaimed Marc, flinging his arms round Alex, but unfortunately, he was up to his older brother’ tricks after so many years and dodged away, bumping into a little bear.

“Hello!” said Nicco, steadying the Egyptian pharaoh. “I like your eye make-up.”

“Oh, do you?” Alex blushed and looked away, not noticing that the young model had placed a sticker on his back.

“You look naked without your arrow quiver,” said Dovi innocently to Aleix as he chomped on a tortilla. The tall model looked round at where it should have been, and his boyfriend put a sticker on his hip.

“Well, you took it off because it was in the way.” Aleix winked.

“I really like your hunter costume,” said Maverick, appearing next to his best friend suddenly. He patted him on the back with a sticker. He caught Dovi’s eye and they giggled.

“Let’s take a photo,” said Tito, holding out his phone. He pushed Maverick, Dovi and Aleix together, surreptitiously putting stickers on them all.

Iannone sneered in the background. What a silly game it was to put stickers on people. He wouldn’t take part if they paid him.

“Let’s have a dance!” shouted the DJ suddenly, and started playing some 1970s disco music. “You’re a 70s guy, let’s see you shake your booty!” he shouted to Iannone, who had found his afro wig again and put it on. But the tall Italian was in a real sulk now and stormed out of the room.

Aleix and Dovi exchanged glances. “Should we go and see if he’s alright?” asked the Catalan.

“Maybe later?” The fox hugged his boyfriend, sneakily placing more stickers on his back.

Marc was having a whale of a time hugging everyone and putting stickers on them. Not many people suspected him because he was so affectionate anyway, and he was rapidly using up his sheet of stickers.

His main rival was Dovi, who was even sneakier as he had a light touch on people, so when he hugged or touched their arm, they never suspected they’d been stickered.

***

Santi and Livio stood together, their backs covered in stickers from where their models had been hugging them constantly, totally out of character. They of course knew the reason for all the sudden hugs, but let it go, too happy to tell them off or stop them from stickering.

“How sweet they look,” said Santi fondly. “All playing together.”

The models were happily mingling with the IT guys, accountants, cleaners and security, all full of food and drink. Some dancing to the music, some talking, some kissing.

“I know this is a sentimental thought, but they are like our children,” said Livio. “We’ve brought them up so well, haven’t we?”

“Oh, you are soppy tonight.” Santi grinned.

“Well you know, when you get to my age, you look back on your life and wonder if you did everything wrong or right. I wish I’d had my own children, that’s my biggest regret. But I was too career focused and money orientated.”

“Maybe we should adopt Maverick and Tito.” Santi smiled. “They live at the office so maybe they need adopting?”

The grey-haired Italian didn’t know what to say, so laughed nervously.

“I’m only joking, Livio. WE don’t need to do anything. I just meant, YOU could—well—you know—I was joking.”

“So does that mean you’ve forgiven me for Fax-gate? I mean, sorry, the fax thing. I’m not making fun of you.”

“Well…probably. That’s all I can say right now.” Santi patted his arm, putting a sticker on there.

“Oi! Cheeky!” Livio gestured at the sticker, but left it on.

***

Everyone was hanging around, rather at a loose end so Shuhei asked if they wanted to play another game. He signalled to Livio and Santi and the trio agreed on musical statues, as everyone was dancing around in a tipsy manner anyway. Shuhei went to tell the DJ and he played some silly music.

_Santa baby, slip a sable under the tree for me_  
_Been an awful good girl_  
_Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight_

_Santa baby, an auto space convertible too, light blue_  
_I'll wait up for you, dear_  
_Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight_

“This is my favourite Christmas song!” exclaimed Aleix, posing and doing what he hoped was a sexy, wiggling dance. Dovi almost fell over laughing at his gyrations so he played up to him, grinding his bum against the chuckling Italian, who was finding it hard to breathe—the more he laughed, the more Aleix wiggled. Aleix got so carried away he forgot to stop when the music did, so he was knocked out at the first round! The careful Dovi had managed to freeze in time. But it didn’t stop Aleix dancing along anyway, at the back.

The IT guys pushed their way in front of the stage, so a Rubik’s cube, an Angry Bird and a Pacman bobbed around, dancing crazily, then a set of Tetris blocks joined them—four guys wearing costumes of different shapes and colours, who demonstrated that they could fit together if they wanted. This made everyone laugh, especially Marc, who was completely out of control, whirling Dani round, and also Tito, who’s reindeer antlers were waggling so much they might come off. Jonas and Johann danced bouncily, cannoning off each other due to their fat costumes—it was like a pinball machine with them rebounding off each other and off the Tetris blocks.

_Think of all the fun I've missed_  
_Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed_  
_Next year I could be also good_  
_If you'll check off my—_

This time it was the long-limbed Tito caught out tripping over when the music stopped.

_Sleigh bells ring_  
_Are you listening_  
_In the lane_  
_Snow is glistening_  
_A beautiful sight_  
_We're happy tonight_  
_Walking in a winter wonder—_

Now the whirling Marc and Dani were declared out—they had somehow managed to keep still previously but now had descended into a giggling heap on the floor.

The Tetris blocks were knocked out next as they all cannoned into each other and couldn’t stop in time.

_Frosty the Snowman, was a jolly happy soul_  
_With a corn cob pipe and a button nose, and two eyes made of coal_

_Frosty the Snowman, is a fairy-tale, they say_  
_He was made of snow, but the children know he came to life one day_

The final few dancers twirled and jiggled, trying to win by pushing and shoving each other just when they thought the music would stop.

***

Iannone stood in the waiting area near reception, wondering whether he should just go home to his flat. He just wasn’t in the party mood today—it was so stupid with all these childish games and silly activities. He fondly remembered the Dorna party in the summer which had been so much more fun. He’d had an entourage of young models surrounding him and feeding him grapes—apart from the ones Aleix had stolen. And his passionate encounter with the nine-time Model of the Year, the great Valentino Rossi. But recently he’d felt excluded as everyone seemed to be coupling up—Dovi and Aleix; Marc and Dani; Maverick and Tito. Even Shuhei and his wife, who was a nice lady, he realised after the Charleston episode, but they were still a couple.

He plonked himself down on the sofa, which was really just big soft chairs linked together in an L shape, then heard giggling noises coming towards him. He looked up to see a cute bear and a tall Egyptian pharaoh weaving along, kissing at every step and mumbling sweet nothings to each other. The music from upstairs echoed down behind them.

Iannone tried to hide from the couple, sinking lower and lower into the soft comfy chairs until he slipped down between two of them. The amorous couple went into a nearby office. They had a party bag which looked like it was full of food and the tall Italian imagined they were going to have their own party in the room. He screwed up his nose.

“What are you doing down there?” said a familiar voice, and he looked up to see a Rubik cube gazing down at him.

“N—nothing.” Iannone struggled up to a standing position, feeling at his strongest like that.

Rins reached out and put a sticker on his arm. “I’ve only got two left now,” he grinned. “What are you doing out here on your own anyway? I thought you’d be in the middle of it all.”

“Well—you know—I got tired of people chatting me up.” Iannone tossed his head proudly.

“Really?”

“Yes, everyone at Repsol wants me. All of them, every single one.”

“Do they now…Is that why you’re alone at the Christmas party?”

“So are you!”

“Fair point.”

They stared at each other.

“So, how did your debate with your friends go?” asked the Italian, with a sneer.

“It was great. We talked about philosophy—if we renew our cells every so often, are we the same person every day? How do we know?” The young technician giggled drunkenly.

“Why are you telling me if I’m only someone who likes looking in mirrors?”

Rins blushed, or he seemed to blush, it was hard to tell in the dim light of the waiting room. “I just meant—er—I didn’t think you’d be interested in debating.” He was definitely blushing now.

“So you don’t care if I heard you saying I was too stupid?”

Even though both were mellowed by drinking and wearing silly outfits, something dawned on them at the same time.

“Now you know how I felt when you said I was butt ugly!” shouted Rins.

“So you DID say it to hurt me! I knew it!” shouted Iannone, refusing to admit he was wrong.

They stepped up to each other, but the bulky Rubik cube bashed into the Italian, knocking him off balance back onto the sofa chairs again. He kicked out at Rins, but his foot rebounded off the cube, making the Catalan snigger.

“Stop laughing!” Iannone shouted, and kicked at him again, this time hitting the man’s leg, making him fall back a bit. “You’re always laughing at me!”

Rins fumbled with the Rubik cube, and finally after a little while he managed to undo it and threw it at his opponent, the hit making him groan with the impact. The cube bounced off into the corner.

“So you are as bad as me. In fact you’re worse because I tried to help you then you were rude,” gabbled Iannone.

“I am not worse!” snapped Rins, towering over him, all in black like an executioner.

“You just said that thing about mirrors to hurt me, you’re spiteful!” He kicked at the Catalan’s legs again, hoping to knock him over. Which he did. The unsteady Rins toppled towards him, shouting, “fuck!” and landed with his hands round the annoying Italian’s neck, strangling him.

Iannone was unable to speak and flailed for a bit, then pushed at his assailant’s chest, trying to get him off. But of course he was stronger and managed to flip him onto the floor.

“YOU’RE spiteful!” hissed Rins, flopping down onto the carpet, all arms and legs.

They rolled around struggling, hitting the chairs back and forth until one crash into them made Rins groan at the impact. It was a particularly sexual groan and Iannone paused to look at him. His eyes were as big as saucers and the Italian could not resist any longer. He kissed him on the lips, making him squeal in surprise, but Rins kissed back, opening his mouth and their tongues wrestled with each other. They pressed their bodies together, both hard and sweaty from the argument and dancing at the party.

“Alex?” shouted a voice, and Rins froze, clinging to his Italian opponent. “Alex! What are you doing?”

“That’s Marc,” whispered the young IT technician. “Should I answer him?”

“No, keep quiet.” Iannone lay on top of him, feeling a giggle bubbling up.

“What are you doing with Nicco? Mama said I must keep an eye on you and you’ve locked yourself in an office with someone you’ve only just met!” Marc sounded so bossy.

The two figures on the floor relaxed a bit as they realised Marc was talking to his brother. 

“Can’t you leave him alone?” said Dani’s voice. “It’s the Christmas party!”

“Mama said I must look after him.”

“Marc, go away!” complained Alex’s voice. “I don’t need a chaperone.”

“Well, come back to the party. I don’t want you sneaking off like this.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake! Who are you, my grandma?” Alex sounded cross and drunk. “Nicco’s hardly a predator, are you?”

“No,” said Nicco’s voice. “I’M younger than YOU.”

The quartet ambled off back to the party, still arguing.

“Squashing…me…” gasped Rins, his lanky body being crushed by the heavier one.

“Oh! Sorry!” Iannone rolled off. “My dressing room is a lot more comfortable?” He winked.

“If you can cope with a butt ugly man in there!”

“You’re not butt ugly! I’m a jerk!” the Italian snapped in frustration. “You’re the most gorgeous Rubik cube I’ve ever seen!”

“Okay but you mustn’t tell ANYONE I’ve gone to your room. Not anyone, do you promise?” He looked up sweetly, like the elf Legolas but with short hair and big brown eyes.

“I promise, I promise.” The tall model was mystified by the secrecy but went along with it. No one else seemed interested in him tonight and he was frankly curious about this weird geekish guy. When they’d kissed the other week…he couldn’t work it out, but it had been…intriguing? Mesmerising? Something like that.

***

They fell through the door of the dressing room kissing fiercely, tongues and teeth clattering together, saliva flying everywhere. No one else was around to see them now Alex, Nicco, Dani and Marc had returned to the party, and Jack Miller wasn’t lurking, so it didn’t matter. Iannone pushed the young technician against the wall and they pressed against each other, still kissing. Rins ripped the purple jacket off him to reveal a frilled white shirt.

“Oh, nice. Very stylish,” he giggled.

“Shurrup,” slurred the Italian, still jammed hard against him. 

They kissed again, for so long they nearly suffocated, their chests heaving like bellows when they stopped.

“Why are you shaking?” asked Iannone.

“’Cause I’m nervous. I think you could be a brute.” He wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, was it wise being alone with this crazy model? He couldn’t think clearly after all the party drinking.

The model waggled his eyebrows. “I can be a brute if you want me to!”

“No, no, I don’t!” He gazed at him, biting his lip.

Despite being full of the Christmas spirit, the Italian paused, transfixed by Rins’ big eyes. “Don’t worry,” he said, holding him more gently and kissing his neck instead, finding a spot which made him squirm with pleasure. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I—I want you to fuck me.” The younger man raised his chin defiantly.

“Are you sure?” Iannone hadn’t expected this, he’d thought Rins was far too prim and proper. “How old are you, anyway?”

“I’m nineteen, don’t worry. But only if you’re up to it…”

“Of course I’m up to it. I’m always up to it.” He managed to toss his head proudly without head-butting him, which was quite a feat.

“You big show off.” He wriggled his hand between them and rubbed Iannone’s cock through the thin purple trousers, making him buck like a stallion and push towards the hand.

He growled with a mixture of annoyance and lust, glaring at Rins, who looked innocently at him.

“So, you are always up to it. It’s all true what they say…”

“Who?”

“No one. I’m just joking.” He suddenly grabbed the model by back of the head and forced their lips together, kissing painfully til both their hearts were pounding. He pushed the sturdier man backwards onto the sofa and began undoing the frilly shirt til it fell off, then Iannone pulled off his black, polyester tunic that was part of the Rubik cube costume. They gazed at each other for a moment, then kissed again, grinding against each other, almost falling off the sofa.

***

“Stop looking at me,” gasped Iannone as he moved deeper and deeper. Gazing into Rins’ eyes was too intense, they were like deep pools of melted chocolate and he was afraid he’d fall in and drown. 

“But I want to…can’t…have sex looking out…of window.” Rins fluttered his eyelashes and moved position to make it less easy for the Italian to thrust. He did so like annoying him.

“Ow! What are you doing?!? Go back.”

He moved so it became easier again. “Better?” 

But Iannone got a wicked twinkle in his eye and pulled out until his cock was barely inside.

“Fuck! What are YOU doing?” Rins dug his nails deeply into back muscles, making his lover yelp but he managed not to thrust, just made a smug noise. They gazed into each other’s eyes, both trying to look innocent, then the young Catalan slapped Iannone’s arse, making him move. At the same time, the Italian decided to thrust as far as he could and shot forward, making Rins yell.

“Alright?” asked Iannone, concerned, but the younger man gulped and nodded shakily.

Both panting, they paused for a while. Rins’ eyes were saucer-like again, Iannone could see himself reflected in them, but for once he wasn’t interested in that. He drew out as far as he could, then pushed in as far as he could. He just loved that noise his lover made, a sort of groan-gasp sound, so he continued going out far, then in far, for as long as he could take it. 

The young technician felt like he was being pleasurably tortured. Or painfully satisfied, he wasn’t sure which. He felt like a helpless rag, thrust back and forth, nearly empty, then full, then nearly empty then full, over and over. Moans and shouts were being dragged out of him, he was panting and clawing at his lover’s back. He didn’t want this to stop.

But then the Italian couldn’t mess around any longer and began to thrust as fast and hard as he could, his heart pounding, Rins’ heart pounding, the slapping of skin against skin, sticky with sweat and arching with pleasure against each other, both moaning and gasping. He loved the way the younger man was wrapped around him like a vine. And all through it, they gazed into each other’s eyes, neither shut their eyes once, or maybe just for a millisecond with pleasure. It was like a stand-off—who would blink first? But it was partly just each one watching the other to see what he would do.

Rins’ cock was squashed between them and hot cum surged out, making him buck and tighten. He made that groan-gasp noise again, which was too much for his lover, who erupted inside him, overwhelmed. Iannone settled down on top, not caring about squashing him, just wanting to stay close for a few moments. Their breathing was in sync for a little while, then they separated, and the Italian thumped down next to him.

They studied each other for a while, half smiling, half uneasy, their chests rising and falling rapidly.

“That was a nice Christmas present.” Rins fluttered his eyelashes.

“Just _nice?!”_

“Wonderful. Scintillating. Monumental. Debauched. Is that better?”

“Be careful. I’m not sure what half those words mean.”

They giggled, and the tension was released.

“Forgive me now?” asked Iannone. He looked decadent, his dark hair curling with sweat and his muscles glistening.

“Wha—what?” Rins’ brain was working at half speed, if that.

“For insulting you.”

“Oh, that! Yeah. What about you? Forgive me?”

The Italian nodded, and wriggled contentedly, pulling a very fancy embroidered throw from the back of the sofa, over them.

“Why’ve you got a blanket?” mumbled the young technician sleepily.

“To keep you warm,” he said suavely and a bit too quickly.

“A likely story...”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I bet you’ve had loads of people on this sofa.”

Iannone shrugged, then stretched luxuriously, his feet sticking out of the blanket. 

Rins knew he wasn’t going to get an answer, and he didn’t want to argue again as he was too satisfyingly tired. So he just entertained himself running his fingers up and down the Italian’s muscly chest, until both men dozed off.

***

Back at the party, the musical statues game had finished, with the foxy fox Dovi winning because he could keep still the longest. Marc just laughed all the time and most of the others were too unsteady to freeze when the music stopped. Everyone was laughing, even Alex, despite his sulk over being treated like a baby by his older brother.

Most people sat on the floor or lay down after the game, needing to get their breath back after the energetic and crazy dancing, but it didn’t take them long before they were up again, eating and drinking.

The desserts were unveiled by the caterers, who had whisked away the savoury dishes. They served turron, the Spanish almond candy; soft crumbly Christmas cookies; the icing dusted rich almond cookies; small flans in individual pots; crema Catalana; churros and chocolate. More wine and beer and soft drinks too.

“Let’s have one last game,” said a flushed Livio, merry from all the alcohol, food and Christmas cheer. “Santi, set up musical chairs.”

Aleix and Tito helped the bearded manager to put a line of chairs back to back in two rows of ten.

“So the rules are, sit on a chair when the music stops…but…remember, as long as you are on a chair with your feet off the ground, you’re still in.”

“So we can sit on each other’s laps?” asked Marc, nudging Dani.

“Yes, if you want to.” Livio tried to look innocent.

The DJ got ready and bells chiming signalled the beginning of the corniest Christmas song:

_When the snowman brings the snow,_  
_Well he just might like to know._  
_He's put a great big smile on somebody's face._  
_If you jump into your bed,_  
_Quickly cover up your head,_  
_Don't you lock the doors you know that sweet Santa Claus is on the way_

_Well I wish it could be Christmas every day_

_When the kids start singing and the—_

Everyone rushed to grab a chair—luckily this time there were enough for everyone, so the DJ continued the song.

The next time however, there was a fight for the last chair, Maverick and Dani ended up sitting on it together, clinging on and keeping their feet off the floor.

“You both go through,” said Shuhei, the judge of the game.

The next turns got sillier and sillier, with Aleix and Marc fighting over a chair, then Tito and Johann, who didn’t really know each other but ended up hanging onto each other for dear life. They just managed to keep their feet off the floor.

The chairs became fewer and fewer until there were only five left. Marc had gone out, so had Dovi and Aleix. Maverick seemed to have a talent for leaping on a chair when necessary and Dani’s small size meant no one minded him sitting on them. Tito, despite being tall, was a natural player too. The other competitors left were from IT and Accounts.

“Come on Mav!” slurred Aleix. “Win for the honour of the model department!”

The other spectators cheered on their favourites too.

At last, during a rendition of ‘Rocking Around the Christmas Tree’, the final two competitors were Tito and Maverick, fighting over a chair. Or laughing more like. They circled around, leaping on the last chair every time, giggling more and more.

“It’s a draw!” called Marc in the end, because it just went on and on.

“Yes, they’re just using it as an excuse to sit on each other,” said Aleix.

“Let’s call it a draw, as it’s the festive season,” agreed Shuhei. He had a big bar of chocolate as the prize and gave it to the couple to share.

“You have it,” said Tito. “You’ve been through a lot lately.”

“No, you have it,” said Maverick. “You’ve been looking after me for months.”

“I thought you’d been looking after me?” They smiled at each other.

Everyone turned to each other, bored of the ‘argument’ and chatter rose.

It was now nearly five o’clock. Today was the last working day before Christmas on the Monday and all the guests were full of good cheer—they’d eaten, drunk and were definitely merry.

The DJ played one last song, a full-on romantic one, and all the couples danced, kissed, fell over and laughed in various combinations together. 

_I don't want a lot for Christmas_  
_There is just one thing I need_  
_I don't care about the presents_  
_Underneath the Christmas tree_  
_I just want you for my own_  
_More than you could ever know_

Shuhei announced the winner of Sticker Stalker was Aleix, who was normally so cuddly that no one suspected him of putting stickers on them. He won a large pineapple, which was such a silly prize that he began laughing and couldn’t stop.

Now it was time for everyone to go home, and they began calling taxis because of course, no one had brought their cars. Marc and Alex had their mum taxi service and Maverick and Tito were going back to the Rabat house. It was hard to find a taxi company which would go to that area after dark, so luckily, Tito’s uncle Julio, a big bear of a man, was fetching them in his van. No one messed with Uncle Julio, so they would be quite safe. Aleix’s mum was fetching him to go home with them for Christmas, as was Dovi’s dad.

_Oh, the weather outside is frightful_  
_But the fire is so delightful_  
_And since we've no place to go_  
_Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_

Iannone and Rins emerged from the Italian’s dressing room during a lull in the activity, both looking somewhat bemused and sleepy. The model was wearing a jacket and jeans from his wardrobe and the technician had borrowed a jumper and chinos. He’d wanted a hoodie but those didn’t exist in the Formal wear model’s world.

“Did we really just do that?” whispered Rins. The sex seemed like a dream now.

Iannone’s eyes slid sideways to look at him and he nodded.

“Merry Christmas!” shouted Aleix and Dovi, rushing up to them, forgetting their annoyance in the festive merriment. They embraced the pair, then whirled off towards their parents, kissing in the doorway until the last party guests pushed them aside in a flood of Christmas impatience.

_Man it doesn't show signs of stoppin'_  
_And I brought some corn for poppin'_  
_The lights are turned way down low_  
_Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow_

A figure dressed as Captain Hook sidled up to Rins. “Did you just come out of his dressing room?” It was Jack Miller, nodding towards Iannone’s door.

“No,” lied the technician.

“Why aren’t you wearing your fancy dress then?”

“I—er—I spilt my drink all over it, so I borrowed some other clothes.” He smiled sweetly at his senior colleague.

Iannone was frowning at both of them so Rins prayed to himself, _please don’t argue, please don’t argue, please don’t argue._

But the Italian just wanted to get home. “See you after the holidays,” he said, nodding formally at the two IT guys, and stalked away.

“I’ve got my eye on you, Alex Rins,” hissed Miller. 

To Rins' relief, Tito walked up at that moment and said, “have a great Christmas, mate,” to him. Tito was obviously not a model and Rins almost hugged him with gratitude. But instead, he just said, “you too.”

Luckily, Miller glided up to Shuhei and began wishing him season’s greetings.

In the background, Marc was hugging Dani tightly, saying, “this will be our first Christmas as a couple.” Dani was beaming. Rins watched them fondly, but with a tinge of envy .

 _When we finally kiss good-night_  
_How I'll hate going out in the storm_  
_But if you really hold me tight_  
_All the way home I'll be warm_

“Oh my god!” cried a voice outside. It sounded like Aleix. “It’s SNOWING!”

The sounds of laughing and shrieking and _ouch_ noises filled the air as the Repsol employees threw snowballs and frolicked in the snow together. They were ready for Christmas, and so was the town.

_And the fire is slowly dying_  
_And, my dear, we're still good-bye-ing_  
_But as long as you love me so_  
_Let it snow, let it snow, and snow_

*******************************************

MERRRRRRRRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AO3 MEMBERS AND VISITORS! HO HO HO! 

Prepare for a few more adventures from Ugly Betty MotoGP next year…


	26. After Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> People get over Christmas in their own ways.

On the Wednesday after Christmas, Iannone was annoyed to discover he’d left his fancy dress costume in his dressing room after the Christmas party, so had to go into work on a day off to retrieve the clothes. He’d been so flustered after the party he’d just wanted to get home and think about what had happened between him and Rins, he’d totally overlooked the costume. He didn’t want to pay double for returning it late of course, so that afternoon, he drove quickly to the Repsol office and stamped up the stairs to the model floor.

The department was very quiet as most staff had taken the period between Christmas and New Year as holiday, so there were only a few people at work. The Italian didn’t bother speaking to anyone he saw, just rushed into his dressing room like a whirlwind. He wanted to spend as little time at work as possible.

To his relief, the purple pimp outfit was lying there in a carrier bag where he’d left it, intending to take it back like that. Then he noticed the Rubik cube lying next to the black trousers and top that Rins had worn—that meant the technician was also in danger of being charged for a late return. Iannone wondered what to do, then thought, maybe Rins was at work today! He felt a slight lift of his spirits thinking this, stuffed all the items into a large bag and hastened downstairs with the unwieldy thing. It was like wrangling a large tortoise. But even if Rins wasn’t there, he could leave the bag under his desk or somewhere.

He was pleased to see only two IT workers at their desks, so didn’t have to answer questions. He knew his way to Rins’ office so hurried towards it, opening the door with a sense of anticipation, and felt a rush of excitement to see the golden-haired technician sitting at his desk, tapping on his keyboard. He was just about to announce his presence when Rins turned and his eyes widened in shock.

“What are you doing here? You can’t come and see me here!” he hissed.

“But I brought your fancy dress costume, it was in my dressing room and I didn’t want you to get a fine for late return.”

“Yeah, thanks but you must go! I’ll come up to you in a minute but please! Go!” He looked scared so Iannone just dropped the bag and hastened out again, totally confused. He went to his dressing room and paced around, wondering what was going on.

Rins heaved a sigh of relief when he’d gone. The last thing he needed was Jack Miller threatening his job if he knew what was going on between him and a model. _Although what IS going on? Did I dream the Christmas party? Did I really have hot sex with Iannone? I felt the aches and pains for a while after, so it must have happened. All I wanted was some loving this lonely season, I didn’t think I’d feel comfortable enough to go that far._

His thoughts turned to his job. _What would Miller think if he knew how seriously I’d disobeyed him? Damn him. It’s not up to him who I do what with._ The young technician smiled to think of the surly Australian’s shock if he knew. But he put those thoughts aside, locked his computer and slipped out of the office.

When he reached Iannone’s dressing room, he hesitated before knocking on the door. _What’s he going to say to me? Does he think I’m his boyfriend now or what? Am I his boyfriend? I don’t know what came over me at the party. Although that sounds wrong, because I did know what, or who, came over me. Maybe, I don’t know what got into me? But that’s equally bad, because I do know what, or who, got into me._ He suppressed a chuckle, took a deep breath and knocked.

Iannone met him at the door with a smile. “Did you have a good Christmas?” he blurted, looking as nervous as Rins felt.

“Oh yeah, great thanks, and you?” It was the standard answer, and provoked a long, rambling speech from the Italian about how he’d gone to his parents’ house, his brother Angelo and other relatives had been there, they’d talked about Angelo’s forthcoming wedding, they’d eaten a huge festive meal, played silly games and watched television. Rins listened coolly, making polite noises of interest as he couldn’t imagine such a scene. During the monologue, the young technician’s phone rang, and his eyes widened when he saw the name of the caller.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this,” he interrupted Iannone, and went out of the room to a quiet corridor.

The model was offended at the interruption and decided to follow him, so he sneaked quietly out after him and found him a few metres away in a waiting area, so he hid round the corner, listening.

Rins was saying, “it was on the 8th December. No, I was nineteen this year. Well never mind, I have one every year.”

Iannone began forming a picture of the caller. _It must be a distant relative, sounds like a dippy elderly aunt, who’s forgotten his birthday? So probably not a boyfriend._

“How’s the weather where you are?” continued Rins. “Sounds nice…Oh here, it’s cold. It snowed over Christmas…Yes, I know you don’t celebrate Christmas. I know you’re too busy with your job…”

 _Aha! This sounds like someone in a foreign country—a business man? Possibly Jewish or Muslim, who isn’t familiar with Christian festivals. Maybe Rins is providing technical back up to him on the side. How enterprising of him!_ The Italian beamed.

“Oh, it was okay,” continued the technician. “I stayed in quietly over Christmas as usual. I didn’t see anyone for a couple of days, but I like a quiet life.”

Iannone frowned. _So Rins spent Christmas on his own? That doesn’t sound right. I thought he’d have a family celebration like mine—lots of relatives, food and good cheer. Doesn’t everyone do that?_

“Okay. I’ll see you in spring perhaps?...Oh right…Okay, not til summer…Bye.” The young technician turned the corner suddenly and bumped into the model, and they both shrieked with shock.

“What are you doing?” Rins glared at him.

“You spent Christmas alone?” Iannone glared back.

“You shouldn’t eavesdrop!”

“Who were you talking to, anyway?” The Italian had decided it was a foreign businessman enquiring after his employee’s welfare. Pretty kind of him really. But he was too nosy not to find out for sure.

“It was my mother.” Rins sagged against the wall.

The facts crystallised in Iannone’s brain. “But—but—you didn’t spend Christmas with her?” he stuttered. “And she forgot your BIRTHDAY?”

His friend just nodded and shrugged. “I rarely see her, or my father.”

“What? You rarely see your own mother?” Iannone couldn’t comprehend this. He couldn’t imagine rarely seeing his own mother, or her forgetting his birthday or leaving him alone for Christmas. Or not seeing her until summer. She fussed over both her sons until they got fed up, but he realised he was actually luckier than he thought. He felt the heat of anger, like lava bubbling up inside him.

“Both my parents are scientists,” explained Rins. “They are in the Caribbean studying the birds and animals there. They forget how time passes in Europe. And anyway, I wasn’t alone for Christmas, I saw a couple of friends on Christmas Eve.”

“A couple of friends on Christmas Eve? That was all? What did you do with the friends?”

“We had a drink, what do you care anyway?”

They glared at each other.

“So, what did you do for your birthday?” asked Iannone.

“Oh I went out with friends, we had fun. Marc and Dani came too.”

“Oh—right—at least that’s something. But why didn’t you go to Marc’s for Christmas too?”

“He’s all lovey dovey with Dani, it was their first Christmas together. I didn’t want to be the gooseberry, with them meeting each other’s parents and so on.”

“But you could have—you could have—come to MY house for Christmas!” Iannone blurted, surprising himself. “You should never be alone for Christmas!”

They stared at each other for a minute. 

“But I can’t meet your family! What would they think?”

Again, there was an awkward pause, then the Italian had a brilliant idea. “I’ll take you out for dinner now, to celebrate Christmas as it should be celebrated! We’ll go to a restaurant and have—we’ll have whatever we want!” He beamed.

“But I can’t go like this!” Rins gestured to his usual jeans and hoodie.

“Erm—hello? I’m a model. We’re about the same height. I’ve got clothes you can borrow!” Iannone took his hand and dragged him back to his dressing room.

***

Maverick was happily returning to Tito’s house after going shopping that morning. He hadn’t been outside for days and wanted some fresh air, so had been to buy gifts for Esteban and Jordi Rabat, as a thank you for having him to stay. Christmas had been so magical, tucked up in a cosy room with the man he loved, and the Rabats hadn’t even mentioned him going back to stay at the Repsol offices. Quite the opposite—they fussed over him like he was an honoured guest. Esteban encouraged everyone to talk and work together, whether it was eating a meal, clearing up, watching TV. They had even played charades on Christmas Day, which had been hilarious. Jordi was always available to play computer games, unless he was in a teenage sulk, but those didn’t happen often. And of course, Tito was always there, as he always was, to play and laugh and talk with. 

It had been a magical Christmas season. Maverick had even been given a stocking to hang up on the mantelpiece and found it full of small presents on Christmas Day. He’d been given an orange, a toy car, a fancy diary, a large ginger and cinnamon cookie, and festive mittens. Normally he’d think those were childish presents but as the Rabats were all around him, exclaiming at their stocking gifts, he’d been swept away in excitement.

Unfortunately, his parents were coming for lunch on New Year’s Day, which he was not looking forward to, but that was next week and so not worth worrying about just yet.

He turned down an alley, hoping he was going the right way to the Rabats’ house, but stopped when he saw three men hanging around at the end of it. Determined not to be a coward, he started towards them, telling himself they were just chatting, but they turned and stared at him.

“It’s a little faggot!” shouted one, with slicked back hair and a black leather jacket. The others smirked and made sneering noises.

There was no word that annoyed the young model more than _faggot_ , so he glared at them, anger rising. They jogged towards him, still making those stupid noises. He looked back the way he’d come and saw another two guys behind him and his heart sank. But he did kick boxing to keep fit, he was sure he could at least wound them—none of them looked fit or even thin, they were all tubby and spotty faced, as if they spent a lot of time watching TV on the sofa. He dropped his bags on the ground and braced himself as the five approached him. 

He set his feet apart and bent his knees slightly, so he was in a safety stance and couldn’t be knocked off balance. This would be bad, but he was determined to be brave.

“Look at him, his hair’s gelled,” mocked the mousy haired one with a scruffy beard.

“You’re brave, aren’t you? Five against one?” sneered Maverick in return, his fists up. “Are you that weak?”

The five stopped and exchanged glances. The one with the slicked back hair said, “We’re going to give you a beating.”

“Why?”

“You’re not a real man, that’s why!”

“So you need five people to beat me up? Sounds like you’re not the real men.”

These thugs weren’t very bright, obviously, so the young model’s argument confused them.

“Okay,” said Slick Hair. “One on one. Shark against you.”

“Shark?” Maverick tried not to laugh. “Which is that?”

The leader pointed to the largest brute, who had dead eyes and was the shape of BB8 from Star Wars. The young model gulped but tried not to show his nerves.

“Right.” He posed defensively while Shark bounced on his toes like an overweight boxer.

The other four stood around, looking as if they didn’t know what to do with themselves.

Maverick was just about to kick at Shark’s head when there was a shout from behind them.

“Oi! Leave him alone!”

Everyone turned to see Tito looming at the end of the alleyway. He looked taller than usual and wore an expression of fury that his boyfriend had never seen before. He marched down the alley and the thugs became nervous.

“Isn’t that Tito from number 85?” mumbled one.

“He’s a psycho, he put those two guys in hospital,” muttered another.

Tito strode into the group and began throwing punches, knocking the attackers into each other, the wall, on the floor. Maverick stood for a second in surprise, then joined in, backing up to his boyfriend so they were facing outwards like warriors. The thugs were bewildered, trying to grab the couple but getting kicked by Maverick or punched, elbowed, chopped and strangled by Tito.

After a while they gave in and stumbled off, with bleeding noses, limping and clutching various parts of their bodies.

“What a bunch of cowards!” shouted Tito. 

Maverick was staring at him with big eyes. 

“But are you alright?” asked the blond.

“I—I didn’t know you were so—so good at fighting—” he stuttered.

The tall blond was still full of adrenaline and strode around, shaking out his hands and arms. “Sorry if that was a shock but around here it is kill or be killed. So to speak. We better get home.”

Maverick picked up his shopping bags. “Well thanks, I didn’t know my boyfriend was the Hulk. They won’t like you when you’re angry.”

Tito smiled at last. “Come on, before they bring their big brothers back to play.” The couple hurried out of the alley.

“They said you put two guys in hospital, did you?” asked Maverick curiously.

The blond laughed. “Well kind of! I pushed them away, they ran into each other and got concussion.”

“Oh! Serves them right.”

“Yes don’t worry, I’m not a secret murderer. You have to get a reputation round here. I was bullied for a long time, then once lost my temper and went mad. The bullies were shocked and left me alone after that. They know it wouldn’t take much to set me off again and when I came along and saw they’d cornered you, I—”

“Don’t worry, I’d have been fine. I had a plan.” The young model puffed out his chest. “But I’m glad you joined me.”

They smiled at each other, starry eyed, then hastened towards home.

***

In Iannone’s dressing room, he flung open his wardrobe and nearly pushed Rins into it to choose some clothes.

“You should wear light colours now you’re blond,” he announced.

“You’re as bad as Marc!”

“Marc? Did you wear his clothes?”

“No, he wants to make me over.”

“You don’t need making over! You’re fine as you are!”

Rins couldn’t help smiling a bit, but felt a twinge of guilt. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” Iannone was busy styling his hair in the mirror.

“I—I don’t know how to say this, but—”

“But what?” Terrible scenarios flashed through the Italian’s mind. Was Rins leaving his job? Was he ill? Married?

“I was deliberately trying to seduce you at the party because I wanted ONE nice thing to happen over Christmas. I hate it so much usually I wanted to enjoy SOMETHING this year.” The young technician was red as a tomato, twisting his t-shirt hem round and round in his hands.

“Oh.” Iannone stared at him. “So, you used me for my body.”

“No! I mean—yes—but—you liked it didn’t you? I thought you were a right jerk at first, but I think you’re better than that now and it was so good and made me happy and I hope you liked it too and—” He ran out of words and waited anxiously, feeling like a complete fool.

“Well…it’s not the first time people have wanted a piece of me.” He admired himself in the mirror. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, I told you, so now we’re clear.” Rins suddenly hated himself. More than usual. “I thought I could just do it and then never talk to you again but I can’t. I’m not like that.”

Iannone thought for a while. “You have a fucked up life.”

“What?”

“You had a terrible Christmas—”

“No I didn’t, I saw some friends—”

The Italian sat down with him on the sofa. “You had a terrible Christmas, no question. You wanted me to make you feel better, so I did, even if I didn’t know. Do you pick some guy every Christmas like that? I’m not saying it’s wrong, everyone does it.”

“No, that’s the first year I’ve done that.”

“Good. I don’t want you doing that every Christmas. I can’t bear the thought of it.”

“Are you angry?”

“No. But I need to think about it. But now we are going out for dinner to have a good time and that’s what we’re going to do.” He stood up and finished getting dressed while Rins stared open mouthed at him.

After a while, he spoke again. “I think I use people too. I think I’m as bad as you. With me it’s, who is the best guy who’s going to show me off the most? Like Valentino Rossi…people like that.”

Rins was still staring at him. “You’re really thoughtful aren’t you. I thought you didn’t have a brain.”

Iannone shrugged. “I am an Italian, we are philosophical people.”

“I thought you’d hate me.”

“How could I? I wanted to fuck you for—a while—and then you came onto me.”

“I thought you despised me. You’re a hot model and I’m a geek? How would that work out?”

“Don’t be silly. I don’t despise you, I can’t. Now come on. We must go for dinner before it gets dark!” He took Rins’ hand. He was still fuming that the poor guy’s parents just abandoned him like that. It was that which annoyed him more, he’d known in his heart that the young technician was using him but for some reason this just made him feel protective, not angry. He’d felt such a mixture of emotions after the Christmas party. Rins’ big eyes and the way he’d wrapped himself round the Italian had been a huge turn-on, but the abrupt end to the evening had been weird, with that IT manager hanging around.

“I just had an idea!” Rins clutched his hand. “Let’s just start again how we should have done. Start from the beginning again.”

Iannone’s eyes gradually lit up as he realised what he meant. “Yes! Okay. I’ll meet you at reception, which is here.” He moved to the door of the dressing room. “Can I help you, visitor? I am Andrea Iannone, the top model of the department.”

The visitor followed him. “I am Alex Rins, the top IT expert, how nice to meet you. I’m looking for Marc Marquez, I’m his school friend.”

“Of course.” He bowed.

“You don’t need to bow,” giggled Rins.

“I am being polite, don’t stop me. But I know your friend Marc. Please follow me.” The Italian led him to the wardrobe and knocked on it. “Marc? I have your school friend here to see you.”

“Oh, hello Marc,” said the young technician to the wardrobe. “How nice to see you.”

Iannone giggled as Rins pretended to have a conversation with the imaginary Marc. “Yes, Andrea is very polite, I’m very grateful to him for showing me where your dressing room is.”

“What’s the next scene? I can’t remember when we met next.”

“We just kept bumping into each other and annoying each other.” Rins turned and bumped into the Italian. “Oh dear, so sorry.” He twirled round the room like he was on the Dodgems, bashing into Iannone every so often and apologising profusely, until they were both aching with laughter. They fell onto the sofa, looking at each other.

“We will not be messing up the sofa today,” said the model. “We have only just met, so we are going on a date to dinner.” He stood and helped his companion up.

They gathered their belongings and went to Iannone’s car in the Repsol car park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beware, this chapter features a woman’s feeble attempt to describe a fight between young men. Probably pretty unrealistic.


	27. An Important Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iannone and Rins go on a date, and what happens afterwards…
> 
> This chapter is entirely Iannone/ Rins, so if you don’t like them, look away now.

“Shall we go to the harbourside? Lots of good places to eat there,” Iannone suggested.

“Okay, whatever you want.”

When they got there, because it was after Christmas with no crowds of shoppers, they found a parking space easily. They strolled along the promenade of the seafront arm in arm like an old fashioned Victorian couple—just a few passers-by scurried past wrapped up in coats and scarves, so no one commented or bothered them. The wind was cold of course, so they hurried towards the nearest place that looked welcoming.

There was only one other couple there, who were putting their coats on ready to leave, so the waiters and maître d’hôtel were hanging about wondering if it was worth keeping the restaurant open. So when they saw Rins and Iannone hovering in the doorway, their faces lit up with happiness and they welcomed the couple in.

“A table for two, sirs?” said the maître d’. “By the window?”

“Oh yes, please,” said the Italian, and they were escorted to a table overlooking the harbour. The decorations were still up for Christmas, so a large tree decked with white and blue baubles stood in the corner, and red and green poinsettias in sparkly pots sat on each table, which set off the red and cream tablecloths nicely. 

One of the waiters stepped forward importantly. “Would you like something to drink?” he asked, looking at Iannone. 

“Two glasses of your best _cava_ please. My friend missed out on Christmas dinner, so we’d like the best, most luxurious dinners you have.”

“Of course, sir,” said the waiter, simpering at the handsome Italian. All the other waiters were gazing at him too.

Rins felt his heart sink. _So this is how the evening is going to go—all the waiters staring at Iannone, who will suck up the attention and show off. While I’m ignored as usual._ He had a very bad feeling about this date.

However, the model had other ideas. He turned his back on the audience of waiters, and said loudly to his companion, “so, how did your latest detective case go? I know you can’t tell me much about the investigation, but how was it generally?” He winked.

The waiters leant forward and Iannone turned to them. “He was under cover over Christmas, that’s why he missed the dinner.” He tapped his nose meaningfully and the other men gasped.

Rins felt a giggle bubbling up. “The case? Oh, well I can tell you a little about it. We’re closing down on the perpetrator, my colleagues just have to do the paperwork.” 

“I expect your undercover work was vital, wasn’t it?”

The cava was brought in with a flourish by the head waiter and both guests took big gulps, partly to hide their laughter.

“Yes,” replied Rins at last. “When I was in disguise, I was mistaken for a stripper.”

The waiters gasped, and Iannone almost choked on his drink.

“Did you play the part properly and get your clothes off?” He winked. 

Rins grinned. “I can’t tell you…or I could, but then I’d have to kill you.” 

“Here we are, sirs.” The maître d’ pushed past the gawping waiters and put some plates filled with food on the couple’s table. Dishes of shrimp, mushrooms, prawns, bacon, smoked fish and fruit covered the cloth and both guests’ eyes widened. The older man had some sharp words with his staff and they scurried off in different directions.

The two guests giggled and tucked into the feast, especially the young Catalan, who hadn’t eaten anything special recently. Iannone watched him with a smile, as he ate more slowly.

“This is amazing!” Rins was glowing from the rush of food. “I’m sure I’ve never eaten as well as this!”

“Well keep eating, this is only the first course, Detective.”

They giggled again, somewhat louder, then another waiter came to take their empty plates.

“And then of course, there was the escape across the ravine,” said Rins loudly, so the waiter heard. “I had to slide across on the rope using my belt hooked round it.”

“Really? How brave, did you avoid the shots at the same time?”

“Yes, I had my special bullet proof under-suit on.”

The waiter stared with big eyes at the blond.

“What is the next course? And we want more cava. Please.” Iannone glared at the man, who didn’t notice because he was too busy looking at Rins.

“Let us surprise you, sir. It will be along presently.”

The cava came first, and the waiter poured it with a flourish. The younger guest was starting to feel a bit tipsy as he didn’t normally drink that much. Often, he got very involved in his computer programming and forgot to eat or drink for hours, so he wasn’t used to such abundant food and drink.

“And then there was the escape in the city,” he said, waving his glass. “I had to jump from roof to roof across the houses.”

Iannone raised his hands theatrically and gasped, which unfortunately turned into a laugh, then a cough. “What a hero,” he eventually coughed out, his eyes watering.

Rins pressed his drink on him. “Don’t choke. Although I could save your life, I’m trained in CPR.”

This didn’t help the Italian to stop coughing, but luckily the main course arrived just then. Each dish was small, for just two to share.

There was a dish of roast lamb shank marinated in garlic, thyme, onion and tomato, then another of roast chicken breasts stuffed with bay leaves, garlic and orange. Yet another contained poached bass in a sauce of lemon, artichoke and paprika, then lastly, lobster on a bed of peppers, parsley and tomatoes. All accompanied by roast, spiced potatoes.

“Could we have wine with these?” asked Iannone. “Red and white please.”

“I don’t want to be rude, but this is going to cost a bomb,” whispered Rins as the waiter walked away.

The Italian waved a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter. I am treating you, I got money for Christmas.”

“Well…I will pay for the next meal we have.”

“But—”

“Don’t argue with me!” Rins was definitely tipsy now and swatted at Iannone’s hand which was holding his other one.

They gazed at each other, then the smell of the delicious food overwhelmed them, and they began eating. The first courses had been scrumptious, but the chef had outdone herself with the main courses: the meat was so tender, the vegetables tasty and full flavoured, and the potatoes piquant and crisp.

Then the wine arrived, and the two guests began to get really drunk, laughing at everything, and the waiters encouraged them, asking questions about Rins’ detective work. He made up wilder and wilder stories, encouraged by his Italian collaborator, and everyone just got sillier and sillier, including the waiters, who were charmed by this cute couple and their exciting stories.

The dessert dishes were a selection of almond, vanilla, cinnamon and lemon cookies and cakes, some dipped in chocolate. The celebrating couple were almost full, especially as a waiter brought some sherry brandy to go with the sweet courses, but managed to eat a good deal of the delicious puddings.

By this time, both Iannone and Rins were at the stage of slurring their words, missing the target when trying to pick up their forks or put their glasses down without bashing them on the table and finding everything hilarious.

“We’re going to close up now, gentlemen,” said the maître d’ gently but firmly.

“Right!” said the Italian, struggling to his feet and swaying when he finally made it. “Time to go!”

“Back to my casework, I wonder where my next assignment will be,” giggled Rins, knocking a glass off the table, but luckily a waiter leapt forward to catch it and steady his guest.

“I’ll drive you wherever you want to go,” slurred Iannone, trying to grab his hand but missing.

“I don’t think you should be driving, sir,” said the maître d’ and all the waiters made noises of agreement.

His guests stared at them in confusion.

“Is there anyone who can fetch you?”

“What about your parents?” suggested Rins, slumping against Iannone.

“Err…no, they’ll shout at me.”

“Should I call a taxi for you, sirs?” asked the maître d’, as he yawned and rubbed his eyes. The waiters were all yawning too.

But the Italian ignored him, exclaiming, “I know!” He took out his phone and after a few attempts, got the right number. “Hey Angelo? I—er—I can’t drive home, I’m too drunk. Come and get me?”

There was a blast of angry Italian from the phone, so loud that Iannone had to hold it away from his ear. The waiters all giggled, looking at each other, and at Rins.

“Well, I’m sorry, but I’m stranded. Will you let your little brother walk home such a long way, in the cold and the rain, and with no coat, and—”

There was a loud impatient noise from the phone, and Iannone smiled. “Thanks! We’re at _La Casa Hospitalaria_ by the harbourside. We’ll meet you outside…yes…two of us.”

Another outburst of Italian.

“I don’t know! Bring someone with you.”

Eventually, Iannone managed to calm his brother down enough to agree and ended the call. “Angelo is coming to save us,” he beamed.

“Here is the bill, sir,” said the maître d’, obviously eager to close up for the night.

Rins caught sight of the amount and gasped, but Iannone didn’t flinch, and paid with his credit card.

Then as the restaurant staff began clearing up the tables, shutting the curtains, finalising the till money, then locked the front door, the couple waited in the doorway, huddled up together, giggling and swaying. Then a good looking, dark haired man and woman strode up holding hands.

“So you got too drunk to drive? Again?” said the man. He looked familiar, so was obviously Angelo, the older Iannone brother, but Rins thought he wasn’t as handsome as Andrea. 

“I only have one life!” said Andrea, rather too loudly.

“Hello,” said Angelo to Rins. “Sorry if my brother is leading you astray, he always—”

“Shut up! This is Alex.”

“Nice to meet you Alex. So, I’ll drive your car, Andrea, and Giulia will drive our car, are we going back to your flat?” Angelo was smirking at his swaying brother.

“Er—dunno, I hadn’t thought.”

“I’m sorry, Alex. Andrea got the beauty and I got the brains in the family,” chortled Angelo.

Rins noticed Andrea frown at this and noted it down for future reference. He’d find a way to stop him frowning. “We’ll go to my flat, I’ll direct you.”

The three men got into Andrea’s car, and Giulia into Angelo’s car—she would follow the others.

Even though Angelo told them not to, the drunken couple couldn’t resist snogging sloppily in the back seat of the car and undoing each other’s clothes.

“Thank god we’re here!” sighed the older Iannone as they pulled up at Rins’ flat. “Andrea, can’t you keep it in your pants long enough til you get inside?”

The slight innuendo made Angelo’s passengers snort with laughter and he sighed again. “Well take care, I’ll leave your car here, and me and Giulia will go home now. Make sure you drink lots of water before you go to sleep tonight and stay up for a while, so you sober up a bit.”

“Okay doctor Angelo, we will,” giggled Andrea.

“A doctor? Is he a doctor?” Rins looked at him cross eyed, unable to focus.

“I’m training to be a doctor, so not quite. Bye bye, sleep well.” Angelo locked the car after them, handed the keys to his brother and hurried to his own car. He and Giulia sat watching the drunken pair stagger in through the front door of the block of flats. The door shut firmly after them, so the other couple drove off, relieved to be going back to their warm and cosy home at last.

***

It took a few attempts for Rins to get his key into the door lock of his flat, Andrea providing a running commentary, making him laugh. They were so noisy that an elderly neighbour came out of his own door to tell them to be quiet.

“It’s nearly midnight, boys,” he quavered, adjusting his dressing gown. “Keep the noise down, my wife is sleeping.”

“Sorry, Señor Garcia,” trilled the blond, much louder than he intended.

“We’ll be very, very, very, very, very quiet now,” added Andrea, also loudly.

Señor Garcia rolled his eyes at them but hid a smile as he shuffled back into his flat. What silly boys, they didn’t mean any harm.

As the couple fell through the front door, they were snogging again, lips and tongues and teeth catching, drool spreading all over their faces, half giggling, half breathless. Andrea just managed to kick the door shut, with such a bang it resounded across the flat, and would surely have woken other residents. But the lovers didn’t care.

“Sofa!” gasped Rins, dragging Andrea to the dark grey, square leather sofa. Very functional, which was a good thing in this situation.

Giggling drunkenly, they ripped off each other’s trousers and shirts, stroking and grabbing anything they could, their bodies squeaking against the smooth and shiny leather of the sofa.

Rins laughed mischievously, suddenly clutching Andrea’s firm cock, which made him jolt and groan. He pushed against the hand, half laughing and half moaning. He worked his own hand into Rins’ underpants too and grasped him, having the same effect on him. They were making so much noise, giggling and moaning, it was lucky they weren’t near the front door anymore. Rolling around on the sofa, slipping and sliding, breathless with lust and laughter, they tried to get footholds on the unyielding leather. Stroking each other, not even bothering to kiss, just lost in the moment, they were so overexcited it only took a few minutes for both of them to let go and collapse in each other’s arms, shuddering and panting.

They lay there afterwards, hot, sweaty, laughing and out of breath. There was cum everywhere—on their stomachs, chests, on the sofa seat, the sofa back, the cushions.

“We’ve messed up your sofa.” Andrea looked round at it guiltily.

“Don’t worry, I’ve had to clean it up few times.” Rins patted the sofa seat and winked at his lover. “Good old Sancho.” 

The model felt suddenly sick. “Is Sancho your regular boyfriend?”

“No, silly, it’s the sofa’s name. He’s called Sancho sofa.”

“You’ve given a name to your sofa?”

“Yes, I name all my furniture. Tomas table, Orlando oven. Don’t you?”

“Er…no!” Andrea laughed.

“It makes me treat them better, so I don’t need to buy new ones. Well usually, not tonight.” 

Andrea was still laughing but also cuddling him now. Sancho felt cold and clammy after their activities, but the Italian didn’t want to move.

“It also makes me feel less alone, like they’re my flatmates.”

Abruptly not feeling like laughing now, the model cuddled his boyfriend more. “You don’t need to feel alone. I’ll keep you company whenever you want.”

“But you could leave any time. That’s why I’m glad to get the job at Marc’s place—he’s my friend, and I MUST keep that job. I can’t lose it.”

“Why do you think you’re going to lose it?”

Rins paused. “Okay. Well—there’s this guy—this guy at work. He’s senior to me and says if I—or any of the junior technicians—get involved with you models, we’ll get fired.”

“What?” Andrea felt himself heating up with rage. He was hot enough after drinking and jerking off, but this was a different type of heat—stony and determined. “What gives him the right to—”

“I don’t want to talk about it now, please don’t spoil the evening.”

“Oh. Okay, so about your furniture, what other things have names?”

The young technician reeled off a list of his named items, making himself and his lover giggle. After a while, he said, “but my favourite is Bertran Bed.” He waggled his eyebrows. “He’s more comfortable than Sancho.”

“Oh really?” Andrea looked at him innocently and Rins levered himself up, their skin sticking together, the leather sofa creaking as he manoeuvred.

“You get water, I’ll clean Sancho, then we can visit Bertran,” he said, smiling naughtily.

***

Andrea woke up feeling parched in the night and needing the toilet, so he untangled himself from Rins and tiptoed into the hall.

After finishing in the bathroom, he decided to nose around the flat a little and as the lounge was the most interesting room, that was his target. Apart from the sofa, which was slightly wet still, it was a very neat and tidy room. But something was wrong, and the model couldn’t quite put his finger on it, in his hungover condition.

But it suddenly hit him. _That’s it! there’s no sign of Christmas! There is no tree, no decorations and no signs they’d even been there. Maybe he has tidied them up already, but I doubt it. Oh but there are three cards on top of the bookcase, certainly from his parents, relatives and friends._ Andrea shuffled over to look. 

The first card was a corporate one, obviously not even handwritten, saying, _To Alex Rins with best wishes from the Repsol model department_ with printed names of the models and managers, including his own.

The second card read, _thanks for all your hard work this year, best wishes, Herve and team_ from Rins’ IT department.

And the third was in very quavery writing, _Dear Alex. Wishing you a very happy Christmas. Love from Grandma and Grandpa xxx_

Andrea felt anger filling him again. _So, Alex’s parents haven’t even bothered to send him A CHRISTMAS CARD? What the fuck is wrong with them?_ He wanted to call them at once and shout down the phone, but that wouldn’t achieve anything. He thought about his own flat, with the small Christmas tree in the corner, a string of cards across the wall, evergreen branches on every mirror and picture, filling the flat with the spicy smell of fir tree. And the kitchen filled with Christmas food and drink with the flashing snowflake in the window people could see from a long distance away. His flat was festive, cosy and warm, but Rins’ flat looked like it was ready for inspection by potential buyers.

The Italian stalked back to the bedroom. _The only people who have bothered with Rins this Christmas are his grandparents! Writing ‘Dear Alex’ in their card. More like ‘Poor Alex’, because no one seems to care about him. Even Marc hasn’t paid attention to his so-called friend!_ He felt so indignant and offended on Alex’s behalf that he almost slammed the bedroom door but remembered just in time not to.

He shuffled into bed with Alex and cuddled up to him, mumbling, “Dear Alex” in his ear. Alex mumbled something in return and backed up against him cosily. Andrea wrapped his arms round his lover and pulled the duvet warmly round them, plotting and planning what he could do to make Alex happier tomorrow.


	28. Significant Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the gang meet the significant others in their friends and boyfriends lives...

The next morning, the couple woke still wrapped up with each other.

“Morning,” mumbled Andrea. “We will do something nice today, and every day.” His voice was morning-hoarse, and he coughed.

“I have to go into work today and Friday,” sighed Alex. “No one else wanted to work and I had nothing better to do, so…”

“Oh. Well. We’ll have a meal tonight and tomorrow, then it’s the weekend.” Andrea couldn’t think past that, he was too warm and sleepy.

Suddenly the alarm blared out, making the lovers jump.

“Oh shit! I have to get ready.” Alex began disentangling himself. “I can’t miss the bus, it only goes every hour.”

“The bus?” Andrea sat up with a groan. “You aren’t taking any bus! I’ve got my car, I’ll drive you.”

“You don’t have to! Stay here and sleep. We had a big day and night yesterday.” 

They looked coyly at each other.

“You are talking rubbish! I will take you to work and fetch you back each day. I’m not having you going on some bus!” He set his jaw and flounced out of bed.

Alex stared after him in surprise. _Am I dreaming, or perhaps I’m in the Matrix? He’s changed from being the rudest, most insulting man I’ve ever met to the kindest and most considerate. I hope I don’t wake up and find it was all a dream…_

***

As Andrea’s car drew up to the Repsol building, he asked, “Can I have your key? I want to get my things before I go home.” It was all part of his plan today.

“What things? You haven’t got any things.”

“Well—er—okay—I thought your flat looked messy and untidy, so I want to tidy it up for you.” He felt pleased with his quick thinking, maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all.

“What? Messy and untidy??” Alex looked like he’d seen a ghost. “Okay then, here you are. Don’t poke around in my drawers.”

“Would I.” Andrea rolled his eyes. “Have a nice day at work.”

“I doubt it but thanks.” He jumped out of the car and trudged off towards the office.

***

Andrea bounded up the stairs to Alex’s flat. He liked calling him Alex, it was more personal than Rins or Rinsy. He went through the front door and grinned at the tidy and totally unmessy lounge. Now to get to work on his plan.

Firstly, he went to look in Alex’s wardrobe. When he opened the door, he almost fell back in horror, staring with wide eyes at what he found in there. After a few minutes paralysed with shock, he stepped forward again to look at the terrible sight—every item in there was grey, black or white, and was either a hoodie, jeans or a t-shirt! Andrea almost had to sit down as he was so overwhelmed with dismay. He couldn’t imagine himself wearing any of these clothes—he liked luxurious fabrics, striking colours, a variety of styles. These were the most dull, boring and dreary clothes he’d ever seen.

Right. He would have to stage a clothes intervention—that was item one checked off his list.

Still thinking deeply about Alex’s clothes situation, he started item two. He set off towards the main shopping area by the harbourside, where everything else was—the restaurant they’d visited last night, other eateries, clothes shops, food shops, novelty shops, a vast range of places to visit. All shops had big SALE notices in the window, and he headed for one full of Christmas decorations, because everything in there was going very cheap now the big day had passed.

After poking around in the shop for an hour, he decided to buy a long length of brightly coloured bunting, which said HAPPY NEW YEAR in five languages. At least that’s what he assumed it said. He could understand the Italian and Spanish versions, but the others could say anything. They looked like English, German and French—he didn’t know those languages, but maybe Alex did.

Then he set off back ‘home’. On the way he passed a clothes shop and was drawn in as if by a magnet. He’d noticed Alex’s clothes size while looking through his wardrobe so picked out a red hoodie for him. At least he’d have one Christmas present, and that was the start of his clothes intervention, too. So he’d accomplished two things in one go.

But then he realised he had nothing to wrap the hoodie in and had to return to the Christmas decoration shop for paper and Sellotape. And while he was in there, he noticed a snow and ice themed throw for the sofa, and had to buy that too. So he returned to Alex’s flat with a lot more items than he’d intended to buy. But he shrugged. _You only get one life, so spend it shopping_ was his motto.

Back at the flat, Andrea whirled into action, putting up the Happy New Year bunting, wrapping the red hoodie, arranging the throw on the sofa.

“This will brighten you up, Sancho,” he said, then laughed at himself. “I am going mad, talking to a sofa. I have caught the craziness from Alex.”

A scuffling noise drew his attention and he noticed the vivarium in the corner of the lounge for the first time. An iguana peered out at him, and he wondered if he could pick it up. Lizards probably weren’t very cuddly, and it might annoy Alex, so he decided against it.

After making the flat just how he liked it, he set off back to his own flat, wanting to change clothes before the meal tonight. They would have Italian tonight, as they’d had Spanish yesterday. But probably a takeaway—he wasn’t made of money, sadly. He needed to advance in his modelling career somewhat to live the luxury lifestyle he aspired to.

***

That same afternoon, Dovi decided it was time for Sara to meet Aleix. So there would be no pressure, he invited him to meet them at the park where they could feed the ducks together.

After Dovi and Sara had bumped into Aleix as if by accident, and he introduced them to each other, the trio strolled along by the lake, wrapped up warm against the cold air, their breath clouding in front of them. Sara clung to her father’s hand, looking curiously at the other man.

“What did you get for Christmas, Sara?” Aleix asked. He hadn’t attempted to hold her hand or even go near her as he didn’t want to be presumptuous. He’d just smiled and said hello.

“Oh!” said the little girl. “Papa gave me a pink scooter and Mama gave me a fairy doll set, with a fairy grotto which lights up.” Her eyes shone with happiness. “I take them everywhere with me.”

“Well not today, it’s a bit cold for scooting, and the fairy dolls can’t fly in cold weather,” said Dovi, winking at his boyfriend.

“Of course,” said Aleix. “Fairies’ wings freeze in winter, didn’t you know?”

“No? Why?”

“Well, my sister told me it’s because—”

“You have a sister? How old is she? Is she as old as me?”

“Oh, a little bit older. But she still likes playing with her dolls and animals.”

“Animals?”

“We have a lot of dogs, some are puppies and we have so much fun with them.”

“Can I see them sometime?” Sara put her little hand in his and let go of her father’s hand. Dovi beamed.

“Of course. Your papa can bring you round sometime.”

An old lady passing by suddenly exclaimed and looked as if she was slipping on the frosty path.

Dovi hastened towards her and caught her elbow.

“Oh thank you, young man,” she puffed. “I need to sit down for a minute.” 

He escorted her to a seat while Aleix and Sara watched.

“Now can we feed the ducks?” squealed the little girl, pulling towards the lake.

“Shall I take her to them?” Aleix was almost as excited as she was, bouncing on his toes.

“Go on then…” It was nice for once to have someone else looking after Sara. However much Dovi loved having her to stay, she was a handful, always poking her nose into things and spreading toys and chaos everywhere.

He sat down with the old lady, who was a little out of breath.

“Oh, my dear, it’s hard when you get old,” she said. “Thank you so much for helping me.”

“You’re welcome, do you need anything? I saw a coffee stall back there, I could get you one?”

“Oh no, it’s alright thank you, dear.”

“Should I call anyone?”

“No, dear. There’s no one left to call.” She cast down her eyes sadly.

The Italian didn’t know what to say. She wore a wedding ring, but her hands were so wrinkled and worn, maybe she was a widow.

“Is that your boyfriend with your little daughter?” she suddenly asked.

“Er…yes.” Why was she asking? Dovi braced himself for criticism.

“You are so lucky, dear. My husband died three years ago, it’s so lonely without him. It’s hard to find a good man. You must hang onto yours for dear life.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. I will do.” Impetuously, he took the old lady’s hand and squeezed it.

“What’s your name, and his?”

“I’m Andrea, and he’s Aleix.”

“Are you Italian?” 

“Yes, I am.”

“I thought you looked exotic.” She giggled girlishly and Dovi smiled. “My name’s Esperanza. It means hope. You mustn’t ever lose hope.” She squeezed his hand too.

A scream made them both jump, and they turned to see Aleix lifting the screaming Sara up and away from a huge, flapping, hissing swan.

The tall model was shouting, “no! Down! Get down!” but the terrible bird wasn’t intimidated, and flapped even more, almost reaching as high as Aleix’s shoulders in its anger.

Dovi’s heart almost stopped and cold fear gripped him as he leapt up.

“Take this!” cried Esperanza, pushing her umbrella into his hands. He ran towards the aggressive swan, shouting nonsense and trying to frighten it away by opening the umbrella and flapping it. Sara was screaming, Aleix was yelling “get down! No! Sit!” and the two other families feeding the ducks were watching in horror as the huge bird squawked and hissed at the humans.

“Papa! Papa!” shrieked the little girl, and Aleix pushed her into her father’s arms, grabbing the umbrella from him at the same time.

“Get away from them!” he shouted. “Get down! Sit! Bad swan! Bad!” He flapped the umbrella at the bird’s head. “Go away!” He towered above the angry creature, which hissed and screeched defiantly. Aleix advanced on it, yelling, “yah! Yah!” and hissing to copy it, which confused the swan.

The bird began to cower in front of such an angry man, but didn’t stop pecking, catching him on the hand once. But it gave a few more squawks, then eventually realised it was beaten. It turned away in a huff, muttering to itself and shaking its feathers as it marched back towards the lake. Aleix chased it for a few metres til it jumped into the water and paddled off at top speed towards its own family.

He strode back to Dovi and Sara, his heart pounding. They were both staring at him with big eyes.

“Uncle Aleix saved us!” cried the little girl.

“Yes, he’s very brave.” Dovi smiled admiringly at him.

Aleix squared his shoulders. “I’m glad I was here, that thing was a monster.”

“Your hand’s bleeding.” The Italian peered at it in dismay.

“It’s nothing.” He wiped the blood off his knuckle with his handkerchief.

“But we better go and wash it, you might catch a disease from a wild bird.” Dovi put Sara down on the ground between them and she took their hands as they began walking along the path again.

“It’s lucky you know dog commands,” he continued. “I think telling it to SIT was what scared it off.”

“Well, it was worth a try. My dogs obey me, so why not a swan.” 

Both men laughed with relief.

Sara pulled on their hands. “So, Papa,” she began. “When are you going to marry Uncle Aleix? We need someone to protect us from swans.”

Dovi gasped so hard he began coughing, and Aleix nearly tripped over nothing.

“Then I can wear a pretty dress and flowers in my hair.” She hadn’t noticed her companions’ difficulties and continued walking, pulling them along with her.

Esperanza was still sitting on the seat as they passed by. The old lady had obviously overheard Sara’s loud comments, because she made a thumbs-up sign at Dovi. She wore a broad smile and mouthed “marry him”, pointing exaggeratedly to Aleix, so clearly that the tall Catalan noticed.

The two models burst into awkward giggles and eyed each other. The sun was setting in a cold, pinky-orange cloud as it was just after midwinter, so they set off home for tea. They’d had quite enough excitement for one day. 

***

Alex and Andrea arrived back at Alex’s flat after work at about five thirty. Andrea was so excited to see what he’d think of the improvements he’d made, but kept his usual cool façade in place as he didn’t want to give away the secret.

The Italian flung open the front door, ensuring Alex was the first to go into the flat. He waited outside and when he heard a gasp, strode in.

“What have you done to my home?” Alex shouted, glaring at him, his brows furrowed. “I thought you were tidying it up.”

Andrea hesitated, shutting the door quietly. “I thought it wasn’t festive enough,” he explained, standing proudly. “It looked like a hotel. I’ve just made it more comfortable.”

The blond stood in the centre of the room, slowly turning to look at the bunting and the ice pattern throw on the sofa. “W-well, it’s not too bad, I—I—”

“I can always take it down if you like!” The model felt a wave of disappointment welling up. “I just thought your flat looked too plain.”

“Well…at least it isn’t Christmas th-themed, it’s N-New Year.” Alex was still twirling slowly to look. “And we can say Happy New Year to English, French and German people.”

“Oh.” Andrea flopped down on Sancho. “Okay.”

“No, don’t be like that. ” Alex flung himself down next to him. “I like it now! I just take a while to get used to things, that’s all. It was so kind of you to do this for me.” He kissed the Italian on the lips. “Thank you. I’m just overwhelmed.”

They cuddled up together, the new throw falling on top of them.

“This seems familiar,” said the young technician. “Us on a sofa with a blanket on top.”

Andrea smiled. “I can get rid of the stuff if you like.” He’d hoped Alex would be thrilled, but maybe some people didn’t get as overexcited as he himself did.

“No! No. I was just surprised, that’s all. I’m just not used to people being nice to me. That sounds so lame, but it’s true.” They gazed into each other’s eyes.

“A present came for you, by the way. It’s on the table.” Andrea was even more nervous about how Alex would react to a present. Maybe he shouldn’t have bought it.

“Oh?” The blond leapt up and bounded to the table. He brought the brightly wrapped parcel to the sofa, sat down and ripped the paper off, looking excited now. “What’s this?” He held up the hoodie.

The Italian puffed out his chest. “It is from me. I thought it would suit you.”

Alex found the gift tag and read out, _Happy New Year, with love from Andrea_ His eyes widened and seemed to get shinier, and his bottom lip wobbled. “I haven’t had a Christmas present for so long. Grandma and Grandpa send me money and Marc promised me a present this year, but it didn’t appear, I mean, I’m not greedy but it would be nice to get something.”

Andrea felt tears in his eyes too and couldn’t speak, so he hugged Alex and they stayed like that, pulling the ice patterned throw over themselves.

“Tonight we shall have an Italian takeaway, so we don’t have to go out,” he whispered in his lover’s ear.

“Oh? I thought I’d had an Italian takeaway already.” Alex stroked his cheek.

***

After Dovi, Aleix and Sara had eaten their tea and the little girl had been put to bed with many stories and cuddles, the couple stood in the doorway of her bedroom admiring her lying cutely asleep.

“She’s so beautiful,” said the taller model. “You are so lucky.”

“She is. I am.” Dovi squeezed his arm and led him to the lounge so they wouldn’t disturb Sara by talking.

The couple snuggled up together on the sofa. 

“I always wanted to be a father. I just hope my brother and sister hurry up and have their kids. Then I can be Uncle Aleix.” 

“It’s funny, I never thought about being a father. When my girlfriend said she was pregnant, I panicked. I couldn’t imagine looking after a child, I was terrified. But when she was born, it all changed and I’m really glad it happened.” Dovi grinned. “She can be hard work, she has such a lot of energy, but every day I’m thankful she came along.”

Aleix made fond noises and cuddled up to him even more. “She seems to think I’m Uncle Aleix, so maybe my uncle-ness has started already.”

The Italian smiled to himself, he couldn’t forget what his daughter had said in the park and how Esperanza had agreed with her. Maybe if this relationship lasted with Aleix, then one day…

“You are staying the night, aren’t you? But you know we can’t do anything, in case Sara wakes up and needs us.”

“Oh yes—yes—of course. We can just sleep. I love coming round here, it’s so cosy.”

***

After another happy day with Andrea, on Saturday at about eleven o’clock in the morning, Alex was surprised by a knock on his front door. Andrea was in the shower, so it couldn’t be him. They’d had sushi as their Friday night treat, plus a few other treats…

“Who is it?” he called, trying to sound fierce.

“It’s me, Marc! And Dani. Let us in!”

Alex felt a wave of panic wash over him as he realised it would be impossible to keep Andrea secret from his friends. What if Jack Miller found out? He could be fired, he could get no reference for his next job, he could fail to find another job…

“Come on Rinsy, what’s the hold up?”

He couldn’t keep Marc and Dani waiting outside. He was only wearing tracksuit bottoms, but it wasn’t like Marc had never seen him half dressed before. So with a shrug, he plodded towards the door.

“Oh hello!” The young model bounded in. “We’ve caught you naked!” He brayed with his usual loud laughter. “Listen, I’m so sorry but I forgot to give you this Christmas present.” He threw a colourful wrapped present at his best friend.

“Oh! Thanks!” Alex unwrapped it carefully. It was a blue hoodie. He nearly said, “oh that’ll go with my red one,” but bit his lip, hiding a giggle.

“Do you like it? It’s designer.” Marc bounced on his toes in front of him, while the calmer Dani beamed.

“It’s lovely, thanks!” He pulled Marc into a hug, then the door to the lounge opened and a naked, Greek god walked in, with a towel over his head, drying his hair.

Marc stepped back from Alex in shock, and he and Dani stared at The Vision.

“I think we broke the shower last night,” it said. “The cold tap is bent sideways.” He took the towel off and it was Andrea Iannone.

Dani’s mouth fell open, Marc gasped, and Alex went as red as a beetroot.

“Oh! Hello!” said Andrea, just standing there, not attempting to cover himself.

“What the—how—why—what—” stuttered Marc, glaring, while Dani giggled.

“Enjoying the view?” said the Italian, posing.

The two visitors turned away politely, Dani choking with laughter, Marc incoherent with rage.

Alex jumped up and manhandled Andrea back out of the door into the hall, scolding him under his breath.

“What? It’s not a secret,” the model was saying indignantly, then the door closed, and they couldn’t hear anymore.

“What the fuck!” said Marc. “I thought they hated each other. If Iannone hurts my dear friend, I’ll make him sorry! I’ll—”

“Calm down,” said Dani soothingly. “Let’s hear what they have to say before you explode.” He stood up and stroked Marc’s arm and hair til he looked somewhat less angry.

A while later, the couple re-entered the room. Alex was still rather pink, but Andrea was now dressed, with his chin in the air and puffing out his chest.

“Well—we—er—” began Alex. 

“Alex and I are now a couple,” announced Andrea. “Whether you like it or not.” He put his arm protectively round his boyfriend and glared at Marc.

“If you dare to hurt him, I’ll kill you!” shouted the young model, leaping towards them. 

Dani grabbed his arm, shouting, “no, no, calm down.” 

Andrea shouted, “you could never kill me, you weakling!” and Alex shouted, “stop shouting! Marc! It’s not like that!”

“I know what you’re like!” Marc accused Andrea. “You use people!”

“Calm down, calm down,” repeated Dani, hoping the mantra would work on his furious boyfriend and pulling his arm to stop him leaping at the taller model.

“You are accusing me unfairly!” yelled Andrea.

“Stop! Marc, you’ve got it wrong!” begged Alex, standing between the two opponents.

Everyone continued arguing loudly until someone banged on the front door.

“Keep the noise down! Everything alright in there?”

“We’re okay thanks! Sorry!” shouted Alex.

The four men stood staring at each other, out of breath.

“I would never hurt Alex,” announced Andrea proudly. “If you think I would, you don’t know me at all.”

Marc stepped up to him. “Well you’d better not. I know you and your ways. You have a different boyfriend every week. You don’t care if you hurt them, you just like a pretty face. You—”

Andrea opened his mouth to speak, then changed his mind and shut it again.

“You must promise never to hurt my dear friend Rinsy, not because I’ll hurt you, but for his sake!” The young model glared up at the taller man.

“I promise. I won’t hurt him.”

“And make sure you don’t mess up his flat. He doesn’t like mess, he likes tidiness.”

“No, Marc.”

“And don’t make fun of his geekiness. It’s very cute and that’s why we love him.”

“Yes, Marc.”

“And don’t ever—"

Alex was holding Andrea’s hand and beaming. Dani relaxed his hand on Marc’s arm and watched the rather strange scene. _This unlikely pair certainly look happy. But I suppose opposites attract—look at me and Marc._

“I’ve got a favour to ask,” blurted Alex, after Marc had finished telling Andrea what to do.

The other three looked at him.

“Marc, you remember I told you about my manager who said we weren’t allowed to talk to models?”

“Ye-es?” replied Marc cautiously.

“Please don’t tell him about me and Andrea, or I’ll lose my job.”

“Oh, I remember!” said Andrea. “You told me about that jerk the other night. When we were on the sofa covered in—”

“Yes! Shh!” Alex blushed. “But Marc, and Dani, please keep it quiet and don’t tell anyone, or I’ll be fired.”

“Of course we won’t,” said Marc and Dani simultaneously.

“What sort of a manager is this guy?” said the Italian. “How dare he treat you like that?”

“He says none of us can go out with models. My friends get the same treatment.”

“Something must be done about him!”

“I think you’re right,” said Dani, exchanging glances with Marc.

“Please don’t do anything,” begged Alex. “It’s better if I just get on with my work and don’t cause trouble.”

“Hm,” said Marc, pursing his lips.

“More coffee and some biscuits?” asked their host, trying to distract them.

The quartet had a civilised coffee break together after that, talking politely about how their Christmases had been and what they would do for New Year. Although Alex glossed over his lonely Christmas, with help from Andrea.

But when Dani decided it was time for them to leave, Marc’s last words as he went out of the front door were:

“Remember, I’m watching you, Iannone. So any false moves with Rinsy…” The young model drew his finger across his throat in a sinister manner. Andrea glared back.

“I’m sure he’ll behave perfectly, won’t you?” said Dani. “Goodbye, thanks for the coffees.” He dragged Marc out of the door, even though he was still frowning at the Italian.


	29. Ice skating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happiness and sadness.

Alex sat daydreaming in front of his computer the next day at work after the festive holiday. The system was doing a thorough scan, so he had time to chill. 

That New Year’s Eve had been the best he could remember. After Marc and Dani had left on the Saturday, Angelo had called to remind his forgetful brother that they always celebrated the new year at the ice rink with their partners and friends. So Alex had accepted the invitation to go there with Andrea, a couple of hours before midnight to make a night of it.

He was delighted by this unexpected turn of events because he could skate well—when Marc and he were at school, they often bunked off the boring lessons to go to the nearby rink, so both had become proficient skaters. 

~~~ 

The door to Alex’s office slammed open, making the young technician jump and Jack Miller stamped in. “I’ve got my eye on you, Rins,” he barked.

“Wh-what?”

“I know you’ve been hanging around with that Italian model and it’s not allowed. Keep away from him or you’ll be fired.”

Stunned by the sudden attack, Alex sat there with his mouth opening and shutting like a goldfish.

“Now come on. We have a meeting in the conference room.” The Australian glared and gestured for him to follow.

~~~

Luckily, as they walked along, Alex was still half in his daydream. He’d invited Marc and Dani along to the ice rink as firstly, he knew how much Marc loved skating and secondly, he wanted some moral support just in case…he didn’t know why, he just felt better having some of his own friends there. In case Andrea did something like chatting up other people, deserting him, or something. He didn’t know what the Italian would do in a new situation.

His fears hadn’t been grounded, however. Instead, the nervous Andrea had clung onto him. He didn’t feel confident on the ice—every New Year’s Eve he’d just stood around chatting people up, not bothering to learn to skate. But now he wished he had learned so he could keep up with Alex.

So the stumbling model was happy to be whisked across the ice by his boyfriend and they twirled around, getting sillier and sillier til they fell over in a heap. 

Angelo and his fiancée showed off their perfect ice skating, dancing around like professional skaters. 

“My brother is good at _everything_ ,” Andrea said sulkily. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Skating is skating, but you have your talents too.” Alex waggled his eyebrows and both men giggled.

It had been so nice for Alex to be _the expert_ for once and lead Andrea around. He’d helped him so much that he’d gained the confidence to step out on the ice and glide around fairly safely. Alex felt as if he was glowing with pride—instead of feeling like the weak one being fussed over, he was the fusser this time, showing the Italian how to place his feet so he didn’t trip or get caught in a rut.

~~~

Alex was brought back to earth with a bump as he reached the conference room. The whole IT department was there, everyone shuffling around, many looking pale and tired due to the first early start after the holidays.

“Good morning everyone,” began Herve Poncharal. “We have two new members of staff starting with us today. The IT department has become too laterally challenged and the forward thrust of the development has become too attenuated…”

“What’s he talking about?” whispered Jonas to Alex. The German was sitting in front of him, with Johann and had leant back to ask.

“No idea.” Management terms bored Alex, why couldn’t people say things clearly?

“Anyway,” continued Herve, shuffling his papers. “Allow me to introduce you to Cal Crutchlow, our new head of Purchasing and Development.”

Everyone clapped. Alex and his friends shrugged at each other, not knowing or caring what had changed. Their jobs would no doubt stay the same, so what difference did this new colleague make to them?

Luckily, Herve had thought of that. He switched on a PowerPoint presentation and went through each slide to show which members of staff would go where. Jack Miller would be in charge of Repair and Testing, which unfortunately was where Alex, Johann and Jonas worked.

“Damn him,” muttered Johann. “Wish we could have gone to the new guy’s department.”

“But look,” whispered Jonas. “The new guy and Miller know each other, surely.” The two mentioned were shaking hands and posing for a selfie.

A little of their conversation floated across the room.

“So great you could get this job, mate. We’ll have a right laugh now,” Miller was saying.

“Sure is. That sofa place was doing my head in,” said the new guy.

The three friends exchanged glances and giggled together, wondering what he meant about sofas.

~~~

When Alex returned to his office, the computer was still scanning the system, so he returned to thinking about the ice skating date. Marc had caused a scene, of course, by trying to sweep a giggling Dani into a lift.

“No Marc, don’t try to lift me! Noooo!” shrieked the little model.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry. One, two, three, hup!” He struggled to lift Dani and wobbled. “Oh—er—argh!”

They’d fallen over into a group of skaters, to a chorus of complaints.

Andrea and Alex had paused for a moment in case they were needed to help, but the complaints soon turned to noises of admiration at how cute Marc and Dani were. The skaters picked them up off the ice and the group soon began skating in a line together, like a sideways conga.

So Andrea and Alex had skated away, preferring to be on their own.

And then, the best part had been the countdown to midnight. Everyone excitedly counting aloud with their breath clouding in front of them, the coldness covering everything like a bedspread, the black night sky with tiny stars twinkling and a light sprinkling of snow falling as all the couples kissed. Andrea and Alex gazed into each other’s eyes, half giggling and half serious, then they kissed, and fireworks went off.

~~~

Back in the office, Alex set his jaw. _No matter what the bossy, bullying Miller says to me, I won’t keep away from Andrea. It isn’t illegal to have a relationship with a colleague. I can argue unfair dismissal if I lose my job just because of that. Andrea, Dani and Marc will support me, and Jonas and Johann, and maybe even the other models in that department. Miller will have a fight on his hands if he tries to sack me._

***

That evening, Maverick and Jordi were sitting in the Rabats’ lounge after work playing a video game. Tito was upstairs in his bedroom writing an assignment for his course. His college had given him a warning for not handing in his work as quickly as he should, so he’d realised he must stop being distracted by life at Repsol and ensure he passed his course.

Maverick’s phone rang, and the display flashed _Papa_. Shrugging, he answered it casually, one hand still playing the video game. But then the controller slipped onto the sofa. A wave of shock and sadness flooded his body and his heart stuttered as he listened to his father speak.

Jordi continued the game for a while, then realised Maverick had stopped.

“It’s your turn,” he hissed, annoyed at the pause.

No answer.

So he looked up to see his friend just sitting there listening to his phone with tears running down his face.

“Wha-what’s up, mate?” he quavered, but he still got no answer, Maverick just sat there, his face white and wet. So Jordi made a decision. He threw down the game controller and ran as fast as he could out of the room, yelling “Tito!!!”

After a few seconds, his brother appeared out of his bedroom, notebook in hand. “What the fuck?” he snapped. “I told you not to disturb me—” But seeing his little brother’s terrified face, he interrupted himself. “What is it? What’s happened?” 

“It’s—it’s Maverick—he—”

Not needing any more explanation, the blond galloped down the stairs and bounded into the living room to see his boyfriend slumped on the sofa.

“G-grandma’s d-dead. And I didn’t say g-goodbye,” stuttered the model.

Tito leapt forward and held out his arms, and Maverick fell into them sobbing and clutching at him.

“Sh-she always supported m-me—and you,” he wept.

“There there,” Tito didn’t know what to say, although having lost his mum a few years ago had some idea how it felt. “Jordi, get some water,” he ordered his brother, who rushed to obey him.

Tito realised the phone was still talking so he picked it up. “Hello? Señor Viñales?”

“Is that Tito?” said Maverick’s dad. “Call me Angel, please.”

“What’s happened?”

Angel related the story of grandma finally passing away with her daughters and himself at her bedside.

“It was so quick. I’m so sorry we couldn’t tell you in time. She had a lovely dinner in bed, then just seemed to fall asleep within a few minutes. It was so, so quick.” The previously angry man sounded empty and lost.

“Would you and your wife like to come round to see Maverick?” asked the blond quickly. “You know our address.”

“Oh! Oh yes—we—we could come tomorrow. Luciana is devastated, I want her to be more together before we see Maverick.”

“I’ll tell my dad, he’s not home from work yet. I’ll arrange it all, don’t worry.”

“Th—thank you Tito. I’m glad you’re there for him.”

“Well—er—me too.” That was huge praise from an unexpected source.

“Can I speak to Maverick again?”

The young model was calmer now and talked to his dad for a few minutes, and Tito was relieved to see that he wore a small smile after he said goodbye.

He slumped against the blond. “Thank god you were here.”

“Yes, I’m glad too.” 

“Papa said he’s proud of me. He’s actually proud.”

The two exchanged surprised glances and cuddled up.

Jordi shuffled in with a glass of water, and a cookie on a plate. He offered them to Maverick, who took them gratefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've rather lost track of this story so this is kind of a linking chapter to move it along a bit.


	30. Difficult Meetings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some things are sorted out and some aren’t, and tension is building in the IT department.

“Come in,” said Esteban Rabat to his visitors, Angel and Luciana Viñales, who stood on the doorstep of the small house. “What terrible weather.” 

The couple were rain soaked, even from just walking the short distance from their car, which was parked outside. Despite the rough area, Maverick’s parents had braved driving there instead of taking a long bus journey. If the car was damaged, so be it. There were more important things in life than vehicles.

Maverick watched them from the lounge for a few moments, then his mother held out her arms and he ran into them, almost tripping over the rug.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to say goodbye to her,” he cried against Luciana’s shoulder.

“She understood you were busy, son,” said Angel, patting his back as if he were a baby.

Mother and son cried in each other’s arms, so the three Rabats stepped away to give the family some space and busied themselves in the kitchen making coffee and putting cakes on plates.

“Tito, get the nice cups from the cupboard, the ones with the strawberry pattern.” instructed his father as he measured out the coffee. “Tito? Tito!”

His blond son was staring out of the window at the rain. “Oh, sorry Papa. I was just hoping Maverick is alright.”

“He’ll be fine.” Esteban patted him on the arm. “But he’d appreciate a cup of coffee.”

“Oh yes.” Tito hastened to fetch the expensive cups. They were his mother’s, which she’d inherited from her mother. They were always kept safe in the dresser and only brought out for very special occasions.

When they returned to the lounge, the three Viñales were all snuggled up together on the sofa, Maverick sitting between his parents.

“Grandma left me a note,” said the young model, holding out a card with a painting of red roses on the front. “She dictated it to Auntie Carmen from her bed.”

Tito read it to himself:

_Dear Maverick_

_I wanted you to know what a lovely grandson you have been to me. I have enjoyed watching you grow up into a fine young man with your own job, supporting yourself independently._

_I have left you some money which will be yours when you are 21. Neither your father nor anyone else has access to it. Auntie Carmen has the details. I want you to use the money to set yourself up with a nice home which will be a good base for your life._

_I hope you will stick together with your nice boyfriend, or if that doesn’t work out, I hope you find someone else perfect for you._

_I am very happy you are my grandson. Be proud of who you are and don’t let anyone put you down._

_All my love_

_Grandma._

Tito had tears running down his face after he finished reading, so Maverick stood up and hugged him.

When the couple finally broke apart, Tito was surprised and a little alarmed to see Angel standing up and gazing sternly at them.

“My wife has been devastated by the death of her mother,” he began. “She begged me not to cause division in our family and I promised not to. You two are a couple, it is plain to see.” He gestured at his dark-haired son and his tall, blond boyfriend. “I won’t try and separate you again, I will accept how you are and I will defend you to anyone.” He waited for a reaction.

“Do you expect a medal now, Angel?” snapped his wife, jumping up.

“No! No, I just wanted to make a statement. I’ve been intolerant and—and—”

“Homophobic,” supplied Maverick.

“Yes. I won’t be like that anymore. If it had been you in Grandma’s place, I just—I couldn’t bear it—” Tears sprung from Angel’s eyes. “Life is too short for stupid prejudices.”

There was a loaded pause as everyone waited for someone to speak and break the tension.

“Well, thank you,” said Tito at last. He stepped towards Angel and the two men shook hands. “We appreciate your change of heart and your support.”

“We’ll always support you!” exclaimed Luciana. “Maverick is so happy with you, Tito. You are welcome to come and visit our house whenever you want. You can stay in Maverick’s room.”

Angel opened his mouth then shut it again. “Of course.”

“You’ll always have a home here too,” said Esteban quickly. “You will have two homes.”

“So they won’t need to stay in that office again. I didn’t think that was very safe,” said Luciana.

The three adults agreed that they hadn’t liked their sons staying in the Repsol building.

“We didn’t have much choice,” said Maverick. “You were going to split us up otherwise.”

“Well I’ve learned my lesson,” said his father. “Life is far too short to be estranged from your family.”

Everyone, even Jordi, nodded.

***

The next day, Tito and Maverick walked into the Repsol model department together, having been dropped off by Maverick’s parents, who’d stayed overnight with the Rabats. Their car had miraculously survived the night with all four wheels, so that had been a nice surprise. Tito had a feeling that his fight with those thugs recently had boosted his reputation and kept the visiting car safe.

Aleix and Marc were standing at the reception desk talking, or arguing, or gossiping. It was hard to tell with those two. At the sound of the front door opening, they turned, surprised they’d arrived at work before the actual receptionist. But both models took one look at their colleagues in the doorway and hurried over.

“What’s wrong, my friend?” asked Aleix, patting Maverick’s arm.

“You don’t look so good,” said Marc, peering into Tito’s face.

“My grandma died,” said the youngest model sadly. He couldn’t say more as he was swept into Aleix’s arms and ushered towards his own dressing room. 

Meanwhile, Marc took Tito’s arm and drew him along to follow the other two. Tito smiled with relief. Of course their friends would be there to help and make them feel better. What else would they do? He went into Maverick’s dressing room with the others and felt comforted by the love of his friends.

***

Indeed for the next few weeks, Tito and Maverick were wrapped up in the other models’ kindness. Any time Tito was busy with reception or meetings or his journalism course, he knew Maverick wouldn’t be left alone, crying. Aleix was always there—if not him, it would be Dovi involving Mav in some practical job, or Marc and Dani challenging him to a game. Occasionally, even Andrea asked him to help rearrange his wardrobe and Alex asked for his help to do a computer scan. Maverick was technically minded, so he was interested in things like that.

Once, Tito even found Maverick sitting on Aleix’s lap on the sofa in his dressing room. They were curled up together, laughing hysterically at something on a phone Aleix was holding, and if Dovi hadn’t been there making coffee, Tito would have been jealous. But the calm Italian said:

“Don’t worry about them, they’re just having an attack of the giggles.” And made the blond Catalan a cup of coffee. His gentle smile also reassured Tito and he asked how his journalism course was going.

And when Maverick was out on a shoot, Tito often had company at reception—he found himself discussing the subject of _younger boyfriends_ with Dani once and having a giggle about the eccentricities of Marc and Maverick, and the strange slang they used sometimes, which was a little hard to understand even though they were only a few years younger. Marc came along sometimes, of course, and so did Nicco, who was a bit wary of Marc because he was going out with his younger brother. However when any sort of argument flared up between them, Tito managed to soothe them both and keep things under control.

***

One February morning in the IT department, Johann and Jonas were innocently getting on with their work in Alex’s office. They didn’t usually work in there, but they were acting as look outs for their friend, who was showing Andrea round the store cupboard. At least that’s what he _said_ he was doing. The other technicians giggled together over how they didn’t think the Italian model was particularly interested in store cupboards, but what else could he be examining?

The office door burst open and Cal Crutchlow stamped in.

“Come on lads, you’re missing the meeting,” he barked.

“HELLO MR CRUTCHLOW!” exclaimed Johann.

“WHAT ROOM IS THE MEETING IN?” demanded Jonas.

Crutchlow stepped back in shock. “No need to shout, boys. It’s in the normal conference room.”

“OKAY MR CRUTCHLOW!” bellowed Johann, trying not to laugh.

“SEE YOU THERE!” yelled Jonas, also suppressing laughter.

Crutchlow backed out of the door, frowning. 

A few moments later, Alex and Andrea shuffled out of the store room, their hair on end and their clothes ruffled and sideways.

“Thanks for warning us,” said Alex, with a raised eyebrow. “I’m sure he wasn’t suspicious at all…”

Footsteps approached the office door again, and Alex pushed Andrea back into the cupboard.

“Why do I have to keep hiding?” moaned the Italian.

“Shh! Do you want me to lose my job?”

Unfortunately, the new visitor was Jack Miller, who glared at them all. He also looked suspicious, peering around the office, this way and that like a spy.

“What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” they all said innocently.

“You should be at the meeting, hurry up!”

“We were just finishing our work,” said Alex, tapping on a random keyboard to make it look like he was doing something. “We’ll be along soon.” 

“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes.” Miller stared coldly at him. “I’m watching you, Rins. I know you’re up to something.”

Johann and Jonas stood up and milled round the angry manager, both talking at once.

“We’re just going to the meeting,”

“Come along, sir, or you’ll be late too.” 

They hurried him out into the corridor, where some other IT technicians were waiting—Karel Abraham, Hector Barbera and Sam Lowes. The group managed to escort the angry Australian towards the conference room—they all knew about Andrea being the secret boyfriend of Alex. They preferred Alex to the bossy managers and wanted to help him, so they were happy to join in with any plots against Miller and Crutchlow.

When they’d gone, Alex went into the store cupboard.

“I’m tired of this!” exclaimed Andrea. “We’ve been hiding since Christmas and it’s stupid!”

“But they’ll fire me if they find out I’ve got a model boyfriend. It’s just not allowed in this department.”

“It’s against the law to bully you like this. We’re both adults and there is no reason to hide our relationship.”

Alex sighed. “I know…I just can’t lose this job. I love it and I love being close to you.” He smiled sweetly, and the Italian couldn’t resist smiling too.

“The Valentine’s Day shoot is coming up, I want you to watch me doing that, so we can’t keep hiding forever. I don’t want to keep hiding forever, so…”

They stared sadly at each other.

“You better go to your meeting now.”

“How will you get back to the model department, the managers are lurking outside?”

“I’ll go out the window, we’re only on the first floor.” Andrea stood proudly, although it was hard to see him in the darkness of the storeroom.

“Be careful.” 

They went to the window, which was a sash style one, so it was easy for Andrea to climb out and into the branches of a large tree. He looked like he’d done this many times before, but Alex put that thought aside and admired his muscles, watching with big eyes and open mouth like a groupie. Andrea posed, making the most of his audience, but then lost his footing a little. Alex stifled a shriek, but luckily the model caught hold of a branch, then climbed skilfully down the trunk and jumped the last half metre. Alex leant out of the window and blew kisses, feeling like Juliet on the balcony saying goodbye to Romeo.

Andrea bowed with a flourish, then sauntered off towards the ground floor reception, where the security department resided. 

“What are you doing?” thundered a voice. Alex jumped half a metre in the air like a cat. It was the angry Jack Miller. Again.

“Just looking at the weather. The days are getting lighter now, spring is on the way…”

“Stop wasting time and get to the meeting!” The Australian marched up to him and glared into his face from a few centimetres away. “You’re on your last warning, Rins!”

Alex felt his own temper rising, so sidestepped the lumbering Miller and strode out of the office towards the conference room at top speed. 

Since Crutchlow had joined the IT department, he and Miller had insisted that both departments had daily meetings to bring the new manager up to speed. Apart from the meetings being boring, they were also thinly veiled opportunities for both managers to show off about how well they were doing in the departments and boss their staff around. And even worse, the weekly meetings with Hervé Poncharal were arse-licking sessions of the worst kind, with Crutchlow and Miller transforming to appear as if they were encouraging and motivating managers to their staff. But of course when Hervé’s back was turned, they went back to being their usual selves—domineering micromanagers. It was driving everyone mad.

After stalking into the room, Alex slumped down in a chair, next to his friends.

“Everything okay?” whispered Johann.

“No. Yes. No, not really. Miller’s _got his eye on me_ and Andrea’s annoyed because we have to keep hiding. He’s starting to give me ultimatums. Things couldn’t be worse really.”

Alex’s five friends looked sympathetically at him, and said, “there, there.”

“Something’s got to give, sooner or later. Probably sooner.” Alex sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve put some unmentioned riders from the 2017 season in to the story because I started it in 2017 so I want them all to be in it. Baz, Bradley and Pol starred in Tarmac Wars so they are having a rest. haha.


	31. Go Along And See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The models band together to help Andrea and Alex.

A few minutes later that morning, Maverick was walking past a meeting room and heard someone stamping about in there. He peeked round the door to see Andrea pacing around, muttering to himself. After hesitating for a moment, the youngest model tiptoed into the room.

“What’s wrong?” he asked nervously, remembering the times the Italian had tried to proposition him.

But propositioning wasn’t on Andrea’s mind now. “Nothing!” he snapped, turning away. “I am fine!”

“You don’t look fine.” Since Maverick’s Grandma died, he’d been grateful for all the help and love the other models had shown him—even Andrea with his clothes tidying tasks.

“I was supposed to have lunch with Alex, yet he had a meeting. Again. He doesn’t want his manager to know we’re in a relationship, he fears he will lose his job. But what about what III want? I’m getting tired of all this secrecy!” He tossed his head like a horse and tutted.

“That doesn’t sound fair on you.” Maverick didn’t know what to say, but luckily the door flew open just then and Aleix galloped in.

“There you are! Come on, Nakamoto is shouting for us! We’re going to the—” He stopped when he saw the sad looking Andrea. “What’s going on? What are you doing in here—” He began to frown.

“He’s upset, that’s all,” Maverick said quickly. He told his best friend the situation.

“That isn’t fair!” exclaimed Aleix. He stepped up to Andrea. “How can we help you?” 

The Italian turned away in a huff, so Aleix just walked round the other side to look in his face.

“Come on, tell me?”

Andrea turned the other way, and they continued like this for a few minutes, until he was forced to laugh at Aleix’s determination to look into his face.

“You are so persistent.”

“That is my middle name.”

The two Catalan models sat down on a table to let the Italian speak.

“I just wish me and Alex could be open. I’m tired of hiding. I don’t want a boyfriend who is ashamed of me.”

Aleix and Maverick exchanged dismayed glances.

“I’m sorting this out right now,” said the tallest model, and strode towards the door.

“No, no! Don’t interfere!” exclaimed Andrea, but it was too late. Aleix had left. “He’ll spoil it all! Alex will be fired!” The Italian wrung his hands, then tore at his own hair.

“No, he won’t, Aleix is tactful. Come along.” Maverick bravely took his hand and led him out of the meeting room. “Come along, look at your hair, it needs tidying.” He showed Andrea the nearest mirror, which always calmed him down, and spent a few minutes helping him arrange his hair.

Tito, at reception, raised his eyebrows and Maverick shook his head at him, to show there was a problem. The blond quickly got a coffee from the machine and brought it to Andrea, who sat down on a nearby sofa with a bump.

Maverick quickly explained to his boyfriend what had happened, and they tried to keep the Italian calm.

***

Aleix strode down to the IT department, intending to tell the young Alex how upset Andrea was, but loud voices coming from an office stopped him.

“It’s all thanks to you, dude, cheers!” said an English voice.

“Strewth, anything I can do to help a mate!” said an Australian one. “Didn’t know I’d be working with such a bunch of pansies. All they want to do is chat up the models, I’m not having that. Me, I like the sheilas.”

Aleix frowned. He recognised the second voice, it was Miller, one of the IT managers, but whose was the first voice?

“They are a bit useless,” continued the Englishman. “Thanks for getting me out of that situation at my last job though. Fucking wankers—I told customers the truth and if they didn’t like it, so what? I’m not arse licking a bunch of snobs who want the perfect sofa. Fuck ‘em.”

There was a burst of laughter.

“So thanks for sorting my reference. They wouldn’t give me one, so you writing one for me showed the tossers.”

Outside the office, the Catalan model wrinkled up his nose. Were these two really talking about forging a reference?

“Any time, mate,” continued Miller. “You can do the same for me some time. I hope I made you look good enough, your majesty?”

Another burst of laughter.

“Come on, Jacko, we better get back out there and crack the whip. Hervé’s such a pushover, he lets the guys do what they want. Not while we’re around, eh?”

“No. And he has no idea how I’m stopping them mucking around with the models. I’m really doing the old drongo a favour, he doesn’t know a thing about it.”

The door began to open so Aleix dived behind a desk but peeped out to see a familiar figure leaving the office—it was that sofa salesman from the store where he and Maverick bought the new sofa for his dressing room. There was no mistaking him—the square, graceless man with slicked back hair stamped out of the room like an elephant.

Aleix ducked down again, his heart pounding, but he sneaked another look to ensure the other man was Miller, whose beady eyes looked mocking.

“So great you left that sofa place, must have been boring as hell. Only one woman worked there didn’t she? And she was old anyway. So you got no pussy there.”

“Of course it was all the customers’ fault,” said Crutchlow, ignoring him. “If they hadn’t been such whingers I’d have made top salesman of the year. But they had to spoil it by complaining and getting in my way.”

Aleix rolled his eyes. He remembered how Crutchlow had been unable to cope with Maverick and himself being lovey-dovey at the shop and sent the nice saleswoman, Suzy, to help them instead. How dare Jack insult her! Now this Crutchlow guy was at Repsol thanks to a fake reference. The tall model felt disgusted—this wasn’t right and he had to do something!

***

“Mav!” gasped Aleix, galloping through the doors of the model department. The youngest model was still sitting on the sofa with Andrea as Tito brought them more coffees.

“What?”

“Let’s go to my dressing room.” The trio hurried off, leaving Tito gazing after them in surprise.

Aleix blurted out, “that new manager in IT! He’s the one at the sofa place!”

“What!”

“The one who couldn’t stand us buying a sofa as a couple. You know, when we told him we were lovers. He had to go and get the woman as a replacement. He was a smarmy, obnoxious creep and he’s now working in the IT department with your boyfriend’s boss.” Aleix, out of breath with talking so much, pointed at Andrea, whose eyebrows shot up into his hair.

“This guy is the one at the sofa place?” said the Italian. 

“Yes, the homophobic one!”

“Ew,” said Maverick. “He was horrible.”

“And even worse, he got the job with a fake reference from Miller.” Aleix filled the other two in on the details, talking nineteen to the dozen.

“We have to use that against him,” said Andrea, frowning. “My Alex says the two of them together are worse than two Millers.”

“What can we get Miller in trouble for?” asked Maverick as Aleix gulped water after his long speeches and running up and down stairs.

“He is blackmailing the IT guys not to get it on with models.” Andrea’s expression was dark. “It’s against the law. I’m sure his boss doesn’t know.”

His companions gasped.

“So he’s blackmailing them?” asked Aleix. “How?”

“He’s saying that if the IT guys get involved with models, they’ll be fired. He’d make up any story to get them fired, it’s already happened to some of them. Alex’s friends told me about it. They can’t afford to lose their jobs, they don’t know what to do.”

“Man! That’s fucked up. What’s wrong with him?”

The Italian nodded. “Something will have to be done…”

“And we’re the ones to do it!” shouted Maverick. He’d had enough of his own parents trying to keep him away from Tito and couldn’t stand seeing it happen to anyone else.

The three models sat down on the sofa and shuffled up together, plotting.

***

As Marc was shaving in his dressing room the next morning, he heard a knock on the door. Unsure of who it was, he peered round the side of the door to see Livio grinning at him.

“Ah, Marc,” he said. “Santi and I wondered if you and Dani would like to come to dinner with us tonight, or whatever day is convenient.”

“Wh—what—I mean, why? I mean—are we in trouble?”

“Of course not,” chortled the grey-haired manager. “We’re just grateful that you helped us sort out our—er—situation. We’d never have got back together if it wasn’t for you and Dani.” He was blushing to the roots of his hair, and Marc blushed too. 

_What a weird situation this is—the top manager at Repsol asking me and Dani out for a meal while I’m only wearing trousers._

“Then we’d love to,” Marc said aloud. “I’ll ask Dani when he’s free.”

“Looking forward to it,” smiled Livio, and sauntered off.

Dani’s eyes widened when he heard the news. “That’s amazing!” he squealed. “I suppose they’re paying? Where do they want to take us? What should we wear?” He bounced round Marc like a kangaroo.

“Hold on, hold on. Enough with the Spanish Inquisition!” The younger model laughed. “We’ll have to go along and see!”

***

When the evening dawned, the models were delighted to find that they were going to dinner in Livio’s penthouse apartment.

“Come in, come in,” said the manager, letting them in at the front door. He was wearing a scarlet satin suit with a pale turquoise shirt, which made him look a bit like the host at a casino. Marc and Dani stifled giggles.

Santi was standing nearby, in a peacock blue smock embroidered with stars, making him look rather like a wizard. He was beaming, the happiest the models had ever seen him. He looked slimmer and his beard and hair were the neatest they’d ever been.

The two younger guys felt rather underdressed in their shirts and chinos, but it was too late to change now. Their clothes were designer label, after all.

Marc and Dani stood looking in awe at the beautiful home. The walls were painted palest grey, the ceiling was very high, and there was a mezzanine floor above the dining area, reached by a wide spiral staircase. Soft light came from wall lamps and free-standing lamps dotted around. The whole effect was airy, clean and modern, especially as the floor was polished marble—the only rugs lay under the dining table and chairs, and the sitting area of two white sofas and four grey armchairs. Scarlet cushions gave a welcome splash of colour, and the walls of the whole area were decorated with some brightly coloured abstract paintings.

“Welcome to our home,” said Santi, rather shyly.

“Do you live together?” blurted Marc, then winced as Dani kicked him.

“Well, I own one house locally, Santi owns another, but luckily I also have this penthouse, so we live here more often than not.” Livio beamed.

“What a lovely view,” said Dani quickly, to gloss over the awkward moment. Two sides of the room were glass, divided by tall vertical frames for strength and support. Livio ushered the visitors to the windows, which looked out across the city. The twinkling lights of all the buildings, the ink-blue night sky and the whooshing headlamps of the cars all looked tiny from so far above.

“I didn’t think we should eat on the balcony,” said the Italian. “It’s only February.”

“Of course,” said Dani. “We don’t like the cold.”

However, the balcony would be perfect in the warm weather—it was floored in wood with weaved bamboo screens guarding the edge. Comfy looking peach sofas with zig zag patterned dark blue cushions sat round low coffee tables and there was a simple long peach dinner table with grey beach chairs surrounding it. The lights were wearing hazel brown beaded lampshades, giving a soft, relaxed atmosphere, further enhanced by leafy, green pot plants of various sizes, and the far wall was covered in variegated ivy.

“Santi designed the balcony,” said Livio. “He likes brighter colours than me.”

“It’s lovely,” said Marc, looking round with starry eyes.

“Come and have dinner,” said Santi excitedly. “It’s an Italian feast, cooked by some Italian guy, not sure who he is.”

Livio rolled his eyes and ran his hand through his sparse grey hair. He escorted the models to the long dinner table and handed them peach and Frascati spritzers as they sat down.

The two hosts whirled around bringing out the first course as their guests sipped their drinks. It was asparagus wrapped in prosciutto, which neither model had tried before, but to their relief, they tasted delicious.

The older men sat down, and Santi poured the wine for the quartet.

“So,” said Livio, raising his glass. “As I said, Marc, we invited you both here to thank you for making two stubborn old men—”

“Speak for yourself,” interrupted Santi. “I am still in my prime.”

“Yes. But anyway, thank you Marc and Dani for making us talk about what we should have talked about years and years ago, and making us sort it all out.” He had a tear in his eye, so did Santi and Dani, and everyone clinked glasses. The only one not moved to tears was Marc, as he was hungry and food was all he could think about. Asparagus was all very well, but what would the main course be?

His wish was answered quickly, as everyone had devoured the first course. Livio whisked bowls of chicken cacciatore onto the table. Marc’s eyes widened, and he licked his lips. The dish was a stew where the chicken, pancetta, onions, mushrooms, celery and herbs had been simmering together in a single pot. The smell was amazing, and everyone tucked in as if they were starving. Silence fell apart from the noise of eating.

After they were full of food, they paused for breath.

“Did you enjoy that, Marc?” asked Santi with a smile.

“Oh yes! Delicious! Compliments to the Italian chef, whoever he is!” He roared with laughter and everyone flinched at the noise.

“Now before the dessert, Santi and I want to say something.” Livio refilled the glasses with sweet wine this time.

The young models held their breath.

“We wanted to tell you that we’ve bought a villa on the Amalfi coast,” blurted Santi, unable to wait. “Livio has lived here in Spain for many years and he wanted to have a base in Italy again.”

“Yes. And we wanted to invite you two to use the villa any time when we aren’t using it. What do you think?”

Marc and Dani were speechless, well, Dani was. Marc gushed, “really? We can use your villa whenever we like? That’s awesome. Thanks so much!”

“We don’t deserve it, surely,” said the more cautious Dani. “It’s a wonderful offer but we didn’t do anything.”

“You did!” Santi’s voice went squeaky with emotion. “If it wasn’t for you two, I’d still be fretting over how Livio treated me years ago and not knowing the truth.”

“And I’d still be trying to push the truth aside, thinking I was saving Santi’s feelings when really I should have told him years ago.” Livio was going red in the face with emotion.

“But you two forced us to be adults and sort out our problems—”

“—and here we are today.” 

Livio and Santi clinked glasses and gazed into each other’s eyes. Dani and Marc looked away—at the celling, the floor, the view of the city, the pictures on the wall—to give their bosses a tiny bit of privacy as they kissed.

“That could be us one day,” whispered Dani to his boyfriend, looking at him with big eyes.

“Maybe.” So they kissed too.

By the time everyone had finished kissing, there was a slight burning smell coming from the kitchen.

“The pudding!” shrieked Livio, pushing his chair back and running towards it.

Luckily, the ricotta pudding cake was only slightly singed, and the quartet tucked into it, all feeling content and in love.

“What a wonderful evening,” slurred Dani after they’d finished the meal and spent an hour or so drinking more wine.

“We’d better go.” Marc just wanted to get his cute boyfriend home to bed.

“Let me order you a taxi,” said their Italian host, and went to the phone.

On the way home, the young models cuddled up on the back seat, thinking about the evening.

“I was dreading that,” admitted Marc.

“Oh, why?”

“I thought it would be awkward, but they were so sweet, weren’t they?”

“Yes. As I said, that’ll be us one day.”

“Well I hope you lose your hair before I do!”

“So cheeky!” Dani tickled him until he begged for mercy and even the taxi driver smiled at their silliness.


	32. The Valentine’s Day Photoshoot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The models and technicians begin their revenge plan…

It was the day of the Valentine’s Day photoshoot, and all the models were dressed in romantic attire. Livio was very happy these days as he had sorted out his problems with Santi, so he allowed the guys to pair up with their boyfriends instead of arranging the couples himself.

Therefore, Dovi and Aleix were together, and the Italian was dressed in a white, feathery costume with small wings, as a peace dove. Due to his name being constantly corrected to Dove on every spellcheck, Livio gave into the pressure and said he could wear the costume. The slight model looked more like an angel—his dark hair and eyes contrasted nicely with the white fabric, and his general self-effacing manner was very suitable for a peace dove.

Aleix, dressed as a blue lovebird, gasped when he saw the serene Italian. His heart missed a beat and he clutched at Maverick, who was standing next to him.

“What’s wrong?” asked the youngest model.

“N—nothing, but doesn’t he look beautiful?” Aleix’s eyes were wide.

Maverick chuckled. “You’re so soppy.”

“Hey! What about you? Look at Tito and say you don’t feel the same.”

Tito was sitting at reception, tapping on his computer, smiling sweetly at the thought of the revenge plan the models and IT guys had worked out.

Maverick smiled as he looked at him, and Aleix made _told you so_ noises, until they both giggled.

“Aren’t we lucky?” said the tall Catalan.

“Yes, aren’t we. But you better get over there and tell your dove how you feel.”

Dovi was surrounded by a crowd of younger models who all wanted to stroke his feathers, so Aleix strode over to rescue him.

At the sight of a blue feathered bird stamping towards them, the young models scattered, and Dovi’s face lit up.

“Thank god. I thought they were going to tear me apart.” The dove and the blue lovebird embraced.

***

Marc and Dani were together, of course, and they wore suits with embroidered hearts all over. Marc’s suit was red with white hearts, and Dani’s white with red hearts.

“I look like a playing card,” complained the little model.

“No you don’t,” soothed his boyfriend. “But we could always play strip poker later?”

“Oh yes!”

At that moment, Andrea and Maverick strolled up to them. They had been forced to work together because their boyfriends weren’t, although after recent events, it wasn’t as bad as before, because Andrea had recovered from his lusting over Maverick, obviously. However, these two were the most scantily dressed—they both wore swimming trunks and carried little pretend harps. Andrea was sprayed gold—at last he’d got his wish after all this time—and Maverick was sprayed silver. Even their hair was glistening with metallic colour and they looked unreal—like gods visiting the earth.

“So,” said the Italian. “Are you ready for the plan?”

The Active Wear models nodded.

“We’re going to help Tito get the attention of the managers at the crucial moment,” said Dani.

“I’m going to help him with the technical aspects,” said Maverick. He beamed as he remembered that was how he and the tall blond had got together in the first place—he’d helped Tito with the telephone system and that was how it all started...

Aleix and Dovi then appeared, hand in hand.

“All set?” asked the Italian dove.

The others nodded, and Maverick slung his harp on his shoulder like a holster, ready for action.

“My Alex has arranged the technicians,” said Andrea proudly, doing the same with his harp. “Now I just have to play my part.”

“With Alex!” Marc reminded him. “It’s not just your show.”

The tall Italian bristled, but Maverick, Aleix and Dovi quickly stood between him and the red suited model and talked about how wonderful the set was for the photoshoot, until the atmosphere was calm again.

***

Livio, in his happy state, had invited everyone in the building to watch the Valentine’s Day photoshoot. He said they could watch as long as they kept quiet, and afterwards he would put on a buffet and close the department early. It was a Friday and he wanted to go off with Santi for the weekend, and there were no complaints from his models, as they wanted to do the same with their boyfriends.

So the photoshoot was busier than usual, to the annoyance of the photographers. But no one cared what they thought!

Swept away by romance, Livio wanted to show the three aspects of love, so he’d arranged the couples accordingly.

The two lovebirds, Aleix and Dovi, perched on a table covered in white fluffy material. They were showing the Commitment aspect of love, a strong and long-lasting quality which would never stop. So the photographer told them to gaze into each other’s eyes, which wasn’t difficult. They gazed so deeply that they nearly fell off the table, to the amusement of the onlookers.

“That’s perfect,” said the photographer. “You can stop now.”

But the models didn’t hear, they just kept staring at each other, smiling and blushing, until Shuhei coughed loudly. The familiar noise made Aleix, jump and sit up—he was tuned into his boss’s coughing and what it meant.

“Sorry,” he said, smoothing down his feathers. He and Dovi jumped off the table and were just about to go off into one of their dressing rooms, but the gold Andrea stood in front of them.

“Remember the plan,” he hissed, covering his words with a smile as he was trying not to let any managers overhear.

“Oh! Yes! Sorry!” said Dovi, giggling.

Then it was Maverick and Andrea’s turn. They were cheeky angels and had to look mischievously at each other, to show the Playful aspect of love. Maverick would have been worried about this a few months ago, but due to Andrea’s newfound love for the geeky Alex, he was too distracted by him to harass the young model, who could relax. The pair were even sort of friends now, so they acted up, looking coquettishly at each other and posing. They got so carried away that it was only the sight of Alex glaring at them as he walked behind the photographer that distracted the Italian, and he stopped being silly.

“Wonderful,” said the photographer. “You two ought to be a double act.”

Alex frowned at his boyfriend, who looked away ashamedly, and Maverick suddenly felt guilty for being so silly.

And lastly, Dani and Marc were demonstrating the Passion aspect of love. They were told to embrace and look lustfully at each other, which came very easy to them of course.

“Look more lustful! Get closer!” instructed the photographer.

The other models exchanged glances.

“Uh oh!” said Aleix. “He doesn’t need to encourage them.”

True enough, Marc and Dani started snogging, running their fingers through each other’s hair and getting their arms and legs tangled up.

“Right, that’s enough!” said the photographer.

They carried on.

“Stop now! We don’t want a porno!”

Still they carried on.

“Gentlemen!” shouted Santi. “We’ve finished the shoot now!” He went and tapped them on the shoulders.

“Oh!” said Marc and stopped kissing his cute boyfriend. “Sorry, Santi.”

But the bearded Catalan just winked and led his models out of the shoot.

***

As the models, photographers and technicians milled around reception eating the delicious buffet food and drinking the wine, Alex whispered to Tito, “it’s time. Let’s do it.”

The blond receptionist nodded, and seeing the conversation, Johann, Jonas and the other technicians sauntered over.

“It’s all set up,” said the Frenchman. “We’re just waiting for our actors.” He smiled at Alex.

“Okay.” The lanky IT guy ambled over to his boyfriend, trying not to attract attention, but he was aware that his manager, Jack Miller, was watching him like a hawk. He went to Andrea and whispered intimately in his ear. “We’re on, let’s go.”

“With pleasure.” The gold-coloured model smiled and followed Alex to the meeting room they had chosen.

Immediately, Johann nodded at his colleagues and they gravitated towards Miller and Crutchlow, who were swigging glasses of wine and stuffing their faces on the delicious buffet food. The Australian was talking about girls and how many he’d had in one night, while his friend complained about the quality of the food and drink.

“Hello Mr Miller,” said Johann brightly.

“Hello Mr Crutchlow,” said Sam, as he, Hector and Karel milled round the grumpy Englishman, who was their boss.

“What do you lot want?” demanded Miller, his mouth full of pastry.

“Oh, nothing. This photoshoot was interesting, wasn’t it?” Johann stood too close to Miller, who backed away suspiciously.

“We all enjoyed it, especially Alex,” said the innocent-looking Jonas.

“Shh!” chorused the other technicians, glancing round guiltily.

Miller fell straight into their trap. “Where is Alex Rins?”

The IT guys mumbled and avoided his eyes, then bombarded him with questions:

“Nice weather we’re having today!”

“Did you see the football last night?”

“Isn’t this food great?”

Miller’s eyes narrowed, and he exchanged glances with Crutchlow. “What’s wrong with you lot?”

“You’re feeling guilty about something,” said the other manager. “Where’s Rins gone?”

“Oh, nowhere! I think he went home!” said Johann.

“But that’s his jacket over there.” Miller pointed to the shiny blue jacket, which had been chosen specially by Andrea as it was very recognisable.

The technicians fell silent.

“He’s gone off somewhere with that model!” snapped the Australian, slamming down his plate. “I’m going to teach him a lesson.”

“Oh no!” chorused Johann and friends. They began milling round again but to no avail. Miller and Crutchlow were on a mission—they wouldn’t be stopped and set out to look for Alex. But unknown to them, Johann gave Tito the secret signal—scratching his head violently—and Tito pressed the buttons on his laptop.

***

In the meeting room, Andrea and Alex were rolling around on the conference table, giggling.

“This isn’t my ideal place to be doing this,” muttered Alex as he wriggled on top of his muscly boyfriend.

“No? It’s perfect for me,” Andrea contradicted him. “I’ve always wondered what I’d look like in a movie.” He posed, gazing towards the camera, but not directly at it of course.

“You are such a show off.” Alex slapped the side of his arse.

“Oh, you are beating me now! I’m such a bad, bad boy.” He fluttered his thick eyelashes at his boyfriend, and they giggled.

“You are. You’re very bad.” Alex pressed him into the table, which was painful for both of them but the thought of finally getting revenge on Miller and Crutchlow took any pain away. Excited to think of this, they kissed passionately, their tongues tangling wetly.

***

At reception, Tito was trying to ignore the live feed video of two of his friends getting it on in the meeting room as he sat with his laptop turned away from the models, photographers and technicians. Dovi was sitting on the reception desk and Maverick stood leaning on it to further help him fend off any prying visitors.

“Don’t worry, it won’t be much longer now,” said the Italian reassuringly, seeing the blond wincing at the action on-screen.

“I hope not. I’m going to have nightmares as it is.”

Just then, Jonas ambled towards them with a plate of cakes. “Do it now,” he whispered, “they’re in the right place.” So Tito pressed a button on his laptop, and the meeting room scene was projected onto the wall of reception.

“Some more wine?” Johann was saying.

“Or some of these delicious cakes?” Sam added.

The IT guys were ushering Hervé, Livio and Santi towards the best vantage point to see the live feed coming from the meeting room.

And it was just in time. Crutchlow and Miller stormed into the room, as Alex and Andrea jumped at the interruption. They’d actually forgotten the plan for a while as they’d got so carried away making out, but it soon flooded back.

“This isn’t what it looks like,” quavered the blond, summoning all his acting skills.

“Bollocks!” said Miller loudly. The word blared out of the live feed in reception, making Hervé, Livio and Santi jump and look at the projection.

“You’ve been hiding from us all this time, and now we’ve caught you!” shouted the angry Australian.

“What a pair of faggots!” agreed Crutchlow. “It’s bad enough having a bunch of airy fairy models upstairs, we don’t want them in our department too.”

“It’s not allowed for you to—er—fraternise with the models!” shouted Miller. “Why don’t you get girlfriends like I do?”

Alex and Andrea sat up, and the young technician gasped and clutched melodramatically at his neck. “Oh please don’t punish me,” he gasped.

“It’s too late!” shouted Miller. “This is against company policy and you’ll be fired!”

“It’s not illegal,” argued Andrea, trying to keep calm. “You can’t fire him.”

“Oh can’t I! I can get the old man to agree to anything, he thinks the sun shines out of my arse.”

“What old man?” asked Alex, knowing full well who he meant.

“Hervé, you loser! Your brain got lost in making out with that—that—” He pointed to the Italian, who was having a hard time keeping his temper. “Hervé is such a pushover, he thinks I’m god’s gift to the department and I’ll soon have his job! You’ll see!”

“Hey!” said Crutchlow. “I’m getting his job, not you!”

Alex thought quickly—he must get them back on track. “So you won’t get me fired then, sir?”

“You can be damn sure I will, you poofter!” The Australian was almost foaming at the mouth.

***

Back in the reception area, Dani and Marc were also showing their best acting skills. The moment the live feed had been shown on the wall, they’d gasped and pointed.

“Look! What’s that?” Marc shouted, all big eyes and innocent face.

“It’s Mr Miller and Mr Crutchlow!” said Dani. “What are they doing?”

“Looks like they’ve found Andrea and Alex having some private time,” said Dovi. “What a lovely couple they make.”

But the three managers were staring with open mouths at the scene.

“Disgraceful!” said Santi. “I can’t stand homophobia!”

“It’s bullying,” said Livio. “What do they think they’re doing?”

But Hervé was the most shocked. “What does he mean, relationships aren’t allowed? And I’m a pushover and will retire soon?”

The three stood there glaring at the projection.

***

Then the next wave of attack began, as Aleix and Maverick marched into the meeting room. 

“So there you are, we wondered where you’d got to—” began Aleix, looking at Andrea and Alex. Then he stopped dramatically. “What’s going on?”

“Hey! Don’t I know you?” Maverick put on his best puzzled expression as he looked at Cal.

“Don’t think so,” stuttered the manager.

“Yes! We bought our sofa from you!” Aleix crowed.

“So here are more poofters!” jeered Miller. “Friends of yours, are they, Cal?”

“No!” snapped Crutchlow.

“You were so rude to us,” snapped Maverick. “How the hell did you get this job? Working in a house of fashion is the last place a homophobe should work!”

“I got this job through my own merit, I’ll have you know!” shouted Crutchlow, stepping up to the young model, who was noticeably smaller than the angry Englishman.

Surprisingly, Miller sneered. “No you didn’t! You got it through my efforts and writing you a top-notch reference!”

“I don’t understand,” said Aleix, doing his best to look stupid. “Why did you write him a reference?” 

“Duh! You’re an idiot! You got to play the system!” jeered Miller. “Cal’s my mate, so I wrote him a reference! No one suspects a thing!”

“What if I tell your boss?” said Aleix.

Crutchlow interrupted. “If you do, your little friends here—” He gestured towards Andrea and Alex, who were sitting on the table trying to look scared, “—will be fired with no references at all! So you better keep quiet about it!”

“That’s not why they’ll get fired!” said Miller. “They’ll get fired because they shouldn’t be messing with each other at work. Ugh! Disgusting faggots! Not like me, I’ve got girls lining up to get with me!”

“Don’t argue!” retorted Crutchlow. “I’m the favourite for the old dickhead’s job when he retires!”

The other guys stared in surprise as the two managers squared up to each other.

***

In reception, Hervé was almost purple with embarrassment, shock and anger. Livio and Santi were nearly at the same level.

“Where is this happening?” demanded the IT manager. “It looks like one of your meeting rooms.”

“It’s Gaultier,” Marc piped up. “I can tell by the shape of the table.”

The three older men exchanged glances, then stormed off towards the room.


	33. The Scooby Doo Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The finale of the story.

Hervé led the others into the room full of angry and bemused models and managers. He burst in, Santi and Livio almost pushed him over as they were so angry and keen to confront the troublemakers. The trio were followed by a trail of Marc, Dani, Dovi, Tito, Johann and the other technicians.

“What is the meaning of this?” roared Hervé, his face almost glowing with rage.

“Wh—wh—what?” stuttered Crutchlow and Miller, going pale with shock.

“You are both homophobic bullies!” shouted Santi.

“That won’t be tolerated at Repsol House of Fashion!” thundered Livio, slamming his fist down on the nearest table.

“And you forged a reference!” barked Hervé. “That is illegal and a sackable offence!”

“N—no we didn’t!” quavered Crutchlow.

“And the _bullying?_ ” Miller made air quotes with his fingers. “It was just a bit of fun and joking around with the guys.” He looked for support from the other occupants of the room.

“No it wasn’t,” blurted Andrea, unable to keep quiet any longer. “They have been bullying me and Alex for months! Threatening us!”

“N—n—no we haven’t,” said Crutchlow.

“Save your lies,” said Hervé. “We have all the evidence on tape.” He glanced at Johann questioningly and the Frenchman swelled with pride.

“Yes, we have the camera and microphone here and here.” He pointed. “And the live feed was obviously directed to reception.”

Jonas, Karel, Hector and Sam moved round the room demonstrating where all the devices were.

The Australian and Englishman looked at each other in terror.

“That’s illegal!” shouted Miller after a moment. “You can’t record someone without warning them first!”

“It is also illegal to bully and harass someone, threaten them with losing their job, and to forge a reference,” snapped Livio. He looked at Hervé, who nodded.

“I’ll speak to you two in the morning,” he snarled and stormed out.

“Come with us, Andrea, Alex, Maverick and Aleix,” said Santi. “Don’t stay with these people.”

“As for you two.” Livio glared at the IT managers coldly, like a Mafia Don looking at people who had betrayed him. “Don’t you dare try and get out of it. Johann? Take your IT colleagues to make copies of this tape and don’t let them get wiped.”

The technicians gabbled, “yes sir, yes sir,” and scurried out of the room to tell Tito.

***

The next day, Hervé called Miller and Crutchlow into his office. He stood at the door, his face like a thundercloud, and the two managers shuffled in like naughty schoolboys.

As the door shut, the other IT technicians tiptoed up to listen.

“I don’t know where to begin with you two!” Hervé said sharply. “Stand up straight and don’t look at the floor.”

“Yes, sir,” they chorused.

“You, Cal Crutchlow. You got this job by means of a fake reference written by you, Jack Miller! Falsifying references is against the law and carries a penalty which I would have to find out from a lawyer.”

“But my old workplace was rubbish!” argued Crutchlow. “They just couldn’t see I was the best salesman and sacked me for no reason!”

“They sacked you? I’d assumed you just wanted a change of job. Tell me the reason they dismissed you, please!”

Miller cackled with laughter. “You dropped yourself right in in there, you drongo!”

“Quiet! I’ll deal with you later, Miller!”

“They—er—well—they said I’d been rude to the customers too often,” continued Crutchlow. “It was nothing! The customers were too sensitive, they wanted me to bend over backwards to please them! I’m better than that! I don’t deserve to—”

“That’s enough! I’ll be contacting your previous employer!”

There was a pause.

“Now, Miller. Why have you been bullying the IT employees and saying they can’t make friends with the models?”

“Well, sir, it was the best for the department. If all they come here for is to mess around with the models, they’re no good in the IT department. I want an efficient, tough, streamlined department for when I get promoted and take it over.”

“What?” said Crutchlow and Hervé together.

“Until this crap happened, I was on course to take over the IT department when you retire!”

“I’m not retiring!” snapped Hervé.

“You think you’d stand a chance?” demanded Crutchlow. “I’m far better at my job.”

“No you’re not! You didn’t start the rule saying no fraternising with the models! That was all my idea! I’m the one who stopped the department being full of lovesick poofters—I mean—workers!”

There was a pause.

There was a sudden explosion of arguments between the two younger managers, but it was interrupted by a bang, which the listening technicians assumed was Hervé thumping the desk. 

“Be quiet!” he shouted. “Or I’ll fire you both right now!”

The arguing died down.

“Your comments bring me to my next point!” Hervé said. “You harassed Andrea Iannone, Alex Rins, Maverick Viñales and Aleix Espargaro in a homophobic and threatening manner. That is your worst crime, both of you!”

“But they set us up!” complained Miller. “It’s illegal to film people without telling them. Cal and I could complain to the police.”

“How dare you!!!” Hervé’s bellow of rage sent the eavesdroppers recoiling from the door.

“How dare you offer that defence against your crimes of bullying, homophobia, fraud and lying? You’re both suspended while I look into this!”

“But sir—”

“That’s not fair!”

“Don’t tell me what’s fair! Get out! Get out now before I sack you!” Hervé burst into a volley of angry French and hasty footsteps moved towards the door.

The listening technicians leapt away from it, all pretending to fiddle with the nearest pieces of technology.

The red faced Crutchlow and Miller stamped out of the office and glared at the young guys.

“So you’ve been listening!” shouted Miller, directing his anger at Alex. “You bastard! It’s all your fault! Why couldn’t you just do what I said and be normal and have girlfriends like me?”

The blond technician stared at him for a minute, intimidated.

Then to everyone’s surprise, Andrea burst out of a nearby cupboard. He punched Miller in the face and the tyrant fell to the ground.

“Stop bullying my boyfriend!” the Italian shouted. “Or you’ll wish you’d never been born!”

Everyone else stared as the angry model pulled the Australian to his feet and lifted him up against the wall by the collar.

“Put me down!” Miller shrieked. “This is illegal!”

“Illegal is what my family will do to you if you ever bully us again!”

Miller paled in terror. 

“He’s not worth it!” warned the technicians. “Don’t get in trouble for him!”

So after a few minutes of glaring, Andrea dropped him on the floor again, then tossed his head and stormed off, with Alex galloping after him.

Crutchlow came up to the fallen Miller and looked as if he was going to help him up, but instead, he demanded, “what did you mean, YOU were on course to get Hervé’s job when he retired? That job was mine!”

“No it wasn’t!” Miller leapt up. “You’ve only been here five minutes and you’re crap!”

“Oh yeah?” 

They began pushing each other and got into a fight. 

Hervé appeared at his door again and shouted, “Get out, you two! Go now before I call the police!”

The two bullies hurried towards the door, still fighting, then they tripped over the doorstep and fell down the stairs, rolling and fighting at the same time. The group of technicians ran to watch and couldn’t help laughing at the sight—it was like a slapstick comedy. The pair rolled to the bottom of the stairs, where they were caught by two burly security men and escorted out of the building.

“Right lads, back to work now,” said a smiling Hervé. “It is actually illegal to film people without them knowing, but the ends justified the means. Good job, boys!”

***

A few days later, Hervé invited the Repsol model department staff to a party with the IT staff. The technical department had just one large conference room, so he set out the food and drinks in there, helped by the gang of young technicians, happy now their intimidating managers had been fired.

As the models, their managers and assistants filed in to the room, they saw a large table covered in a French buffet of various quiches, cheese soufflés, French toast with ham and tomatoes, tomato and onion tarts, Provencal omelette cake, Nicoise stuffed baguettes, and anchovy palmiers. At the other end sat dishes of profiteroles, eclairs, orange and chocolate Madeleines, apple and pear tartes, chocolate soufflé and crème brulée. White, red and rosé wines dotted the table, of course.

They stared at this feast, it seemed so soon after the Valentine’s Day one.

“Welcome, welcome,” said Hervé, who was standing on the dais. “You may be wondering what this is about.”

Everyone, including the technicians, stared at him, wondering what was going on.

“I want to sincerely apologise for the harassment my two ex-managers, Cal Crutchlow and Jack Miller, have put you all through. They threatened their own IT staff with dismissal if they so much as talked to any of the models. They made the models feel unwelcome and harassed. And due to all this, they caused the managers to be mystified about why there was such a bad atmosphere between departments. We couldn’t think what was going wrong.”

He took a gulp of red wine from his glass to wet his dry throat.

“After thoroughly investigating fraud claims made about the two offending staff members, they have been fired. Now we can all relax and enjoy this delicious food and drink. I apologise for their behaviour from the bottom of my heart and promise you that it will never happen again.”

Everyone cheered and set about eating and drinking at once. Conversation rose as groups of friends and couples passed each other plates, food, glasses and drinks, then sat down on nearby chairs, which had been placed in groups to encourage socialising.

Before anyone could settle though, the conference room doors burst open and two figures staggered in.

“It’s all your fault!” slurred the drunken Crutchlow. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d be manager of this department.”

It wasn’t clear who he was talking to.

“I had this vision, this plan for the IT department. It was all going to be mine!” interrupted Miller, pushing his former colleague to the side. “I’d have got away with it too, if it weren’t for you meddling models!” He shook his fist at everyone in general.

“What are you two doing here?” bellowed Hervé, who was still standing on the dais talking to people who’d approached him to discuss his speech. “Get out!”

“We’re just here to pick up our stuff!” replied Miller defiantly. “We’re better than this. You’re all pricks!”

Andrea, Aleix and some IT guys nearest the door, advanced on the ex-managers, and they recoiled. Hervé pressed a button on the wall, security guards arrived, and the pair were dragged out of the room, swearing and kicking and screaming as they went.

There was a shocked pause. Then everyone burst out laughing.

“What a pair of jerks,” said Aleix.

“Yeah,” agreed Maverick. “Crutchlow was so rude to us at the sofa store, wasn’t he?”

“Thank god they’ve gone,” sighed Alex, cuddling up to Andrea. “We can have sex in every office now.”

The others gasped and burst out laughing.

“I thought IT stood for Information Technology, not—not—something like—Intercourse Town!” crowed Marc.

“Whatever it is, I’m now the manager,” said Alex proudly. “Hervé promoted me and Johann into Miller and Crutchlow’s jobs. So I needn’t worry about money anymore.”

“And you needn’t worry about family either, you can be part of mine.” Andrea pulled him onto his lap and kissed him.

Marc coughed loudly. “Please don’t start Intercourse Town just yet!”

“I’m sorry to be a downer, but I didn’t pass my fashion journalism course,” said Tito, biting his lip. “I think I got too distracted by events at Repsol.”

“Oh no!” said his friends simultaneously, patting him. “Sorry we distracted you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Maverick jumped into his lap.

“I thought you had enough on your plate. My tutor was on my side through all our problems—I told her about your parents and she said to take all the time I needed.”

“So how come you failed your course?”

“It’s not up to the tutor, it’s up to the exam board. But she said she’ll support me for the retake. It’s no problem.”

“I’ll support you too!” said the youngest model, stroking his hair.

“Thank you. I also spoke to Livio, he felt terrible about not allowing me time to do my work. He said I am an excellent receptionist and a promising journalist and arranged that I’ll work here three days a week, Nicco or someone will cover the other two days to let me do coursework.”

“That’s good!” Maverick’s eyes were shining. “You can stay working here and we’ll help you to pass. Now we don’t have to worry about my stupid parents, we can stay in either home and work on your projects.”

They kissed too.

“So Dani.” Dovi turned to the little model to give the other couples some privacy. “How did the meal go with Livio and Santi?”

Dani and Marc launched into a description of the wonderful penthouse, the lovely food, the kind offer of the villa holiday from the older couple.

“We thought we’d go at the first opportunity,” said Dani.

“Probably in May,” added Marc, jiggling with excitement and nearly spilling his plate of food.

“That’s so nice of you two to help Livio and Santi get back together,” said Aleix, smiling.

“How are you all?” interrupted a voice. Shuhei and his wife stood smiling nearby.

“Hello Himari!” Andrea jumped up. He hadn’t forgotten how kind Mrs Nakamoto had been to him at Christmas when he was feeling sad and low. He embraced her, and she squealed, blushing.

“This is my boyfriend Alex.” He gestured to the lanky blond, who nodded politely. “I’m much happier now.”

“I knew there was a reason you were unhappy at Christmas,” she said wisely. "I'm glad you sorted it out."

Music began playing in the distance, and Maverick looked across to see Johann, Jonas and the other technicians fiddling with the sound system and speakers. Livio was twirling Santi around in time with the tune and they were nearly falling over laughing. The youngest model looked back at his friends to see Aleix cuddling Dovi and did a double take.

“What’s that on your finger?” he yelped, pointing at his best friend. 

“Oh—well—you know,” Aleix said, blushing, and Dovi took his left hand in his and displayed them both to the group. On each ring fingers was a silver band set with one small diamond.

“We move forward,” said the Italian, shyly.

The group of friends stared, then all began asking questions at once.

“When did this happen?” asked Dani.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” demanded Maverick.

“When’s the wedding?” shrieked Marc.

“Are we invited to the ceremony?” asked Tito.

“Of course,” said Dovi, smiling. “Me and Aleix wouldn’t even have got together if it wasn’t for all of you interfering in some way.”

“How cheeky!” said Marc. 

The others said, “aww…” as the engaged couple kissed sweetly. Then the group of friends began talking about the important subject of what Dovi and Aleix should wear on their wedding day.

***THE END***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is probably highly inappropriate to post this now due to Jack and Cal’s heroics at Argentina, but I’m very scared that WW3 is going to start any minute and I want my boys to get a happy ending, well most of them.
> 
> The notes I originally made for the ending:
> 
> I wanted Tito to be Betty, but couldn’t think of who to pair him off with. I wanted someone lively to cheer him up and make him happy so I thought of Aleix. But Aleix is TOO lively and bouncy and would be too much for Tito.
> 
> So, then I thought of the other models. I didn’t want it to be Tito’s ‘brother’ Marc; Dani and Dovi seem too old for him; Iannone is just too harsh…hm… But then it just kind of happened that Aleix and Maverick walked in to say hello to Tito. And the minute Tito saw Maverick, that was it! He liked Maverick, and Maverick liked him, it was ❤ eyes all round. I found a picture online of them gazing sweetly at each other. So, I put them together with the chicks and eggs in the spring fashion shoot and something blossomed. Especially with cheeky Maverick making the huevos comment—really Maverick, how naughty!
> 
> Also Dovi/ Aleix. I couldn’t decide how to sort out them and Iannone. I didn’t want Iannone getting a boyfriend at first (until Rins turned up), so that left Aleix and Dovi. Aleix stole Iannone’s grapes for a private grape feeding session and I worked backwards from there! Then they wanted to play ‘Roman emperor and slave boy’ and that led to all sorts of things. An unusual couple but they work IMO. Especially as they played right into my hands in the Argentina 2017 race with Aleix rushing over to cuddle Dovi after making him crash.


End file.
